


The Most Dangerous of Animals, Beast Born of the Heart

by Wolfarella



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gladiators, Anachronistic, Barebacking, Bottom Chuck Hansen, M/M, Master/Slave, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-06 09:26:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1105177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfarella/pseuds/Wolfarella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raleigh Becket is a gladiator who's fought for the house of Hercules Hansen for some time, and after he becomes Champion, his lanista’s son, Chuck, suddenly takes an avid interest in him that very quickly turns into something more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Most Dangerous of Animals, Beast Born of the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Received [this prompt](http://wolfarella.tumblr.com/post/68174661713/if-youre-still-taking-prompts-chuck-raleigh) from the wonderful travelerfound on Tumblr, and after a bit of encouragement from some of the lovelies that follow me, I decided to write a full-length fic. The original prompt was simply ‘gladiator!AU’ and while I love gladiators, I _really_ love the TV show Spartacus, so that’s where I drew all of my inspiration from and what I based this fic on. I've taken a lot of liberties with the storytelling -- it's simply a fun, somewhat cracky love letter to one of my all time favorite shows. I don't think you need to have watched the show to follow along, and just in case it's needed, I compiled a little [glossary](http://i.imgur.com/OPJ7TcX.png) of a few terms I use. Tagged as anachronistic for the fact that I use modernized speech and dialogue to keep it as in character as I can. It turned out a little longer than I'd intended, but I had fun writing it, so I hope you have fun reading it!
> 
>  **Edit** : The absolutely wonderful nerdyspock on Tumblr created [this](http://nerdyspock.tumblr.com/post/71429981595/im-sorry-again-and-again-and-again-this-is-so) for the fic!

 

* * *

 

_“There are many things given to us in this life for the wrong reasons._  
 _What we do with such blessings, that is the true test of a man.”_  
 _\- Gannicus (Spartacus: Gods of the Arena, ‘Paterfamilias’)_

 

* * *

 

It isn’t until he’s Champion that his dominus’ son seems to take an interest in him.

The branded H on his arm is well-healed over by now, has been a part of him for so long that he might as well have been born with it – he’s been a gladiator at Hercules Hansen’s ludus for a good number of years. The night he and Yancy had received the mark, the night they’d ascended from being simple enslaved recruits, is a dull memory in the back of his mind, and though Yancy’s death on the sands still pains him to think about, it’s been long enough that the nightmares have stopped. And in all this time, Herc’s son has never spared him more than a sneer from the balcony that looks out onto the training yard.

He’s in the baths after the games earlier in the day – the former Champion had been a guy called simply, Clawhook, one of Hannibal Chau’s fighters, who’d only gone down after Raleigh had cut his head clean off – and he’s sitting on one of the stone benches, scraping dirt off of himself with a strigil. He’s alone, whether or not this is some new privilege afforded him or he just arrived later than the others, he doesn’t know. His body is exhausted, limbs heavy and dragging, but he feels like he’s buzzing at the same time, adrenaline lingering in his bones. Though the medicus had cleaned the wounds and packed them with remedial herbs, his back aches and burns where Clawhook had managed to slash him a few times with one of his preferred weapons – a whip, which Raleigh had then taken off the man’s corpse and brandished for the roaring crowd to see.

He’s just about finished, trying to will his body to relax, when he hears the heavy footfalls that indicate the arrival of one of the ludus guards. Raleigh doesn’t look up at him right away, since the guards like any excuse to torment the slaves when they know Herc can’t see them, and he pretends not to even notice the other man’s presence until he barks out that Raleigh’s been summoned. Addresses him as Champion instead of slave, but somehow it doesn’t feel any better. Raleigh stares at the floor just a moment longer, sighs, and then stands to put on his subligaculum.

He expects to be taken to Herc. His lanista had already congratulated him, had already promised him rewards he could never imagine should he remain at the top like this – and had even thanked him, for the honor his win brought the Hansen name – but Raleigh wouldn’t have been surprised if Herc had yet more words for him. And he wouldn’t have minded, as Herc isn’t like other lanistae. But instead, the guard leads him farther into the villa than he’s ever been before, leaving him alone at the wide open archway of a room.

Raleigh looks around, listens for any sound that might give away why he’s there, and he cautiously steps into the room. Someone’s sleeping quarters, he realizes, darkened, save for just a few candles that provide a soft and warm glow.

“Reckon you’re real proud of yourself, aren’t you?”

Belatedly, Raleigh sees that there’s not only a chair in the one of the shadowed corners, but someone sitting in it – Chuck, his master’s son, with his mocking voice and cold eyes. Raleigh drops his gaze the minute it lands on Chuck, having to remind himself to keep his face blank.

Chuck pushes himself up out of the chair and takes a few steps towards Raleigh, staring hard at him. “Can’t speak? You really every bit as feral as you lot act out there?” he asks.

Raleigh makes a vague shrugging gesture, and then inclines his head a little and says, “Didn’t seem you expected an answer.”

Chuck studies him before he snorts, and he turns to take a few strides away from Raleigh. He moves like he’s full to the brim of intense energy and has no way to expel it, and Raleigh’s kind of surprised that he’s never noticed before. “You’re his pride and joy, you know. You’re all he talks about, the only thing he gives a shit about anymore.” He glances back quickly, as though he means to catch Raleigh in some guilty act, and after a pause, “That doesn’t please you?”

“I’m just doing what’s asked of me,” Raleigh says. And it’s the truth.

But it makes Chuck scoff. “I never understood why he bought you in the first place. Didn’t expect you to even make it to the test, myself, much less get the bloody mark.” And suddenly, he’s there again, grabbing Raleigh’s right arm and jerking it out to look at the branded H. Raleigh tenses, fighting the urge to wrench his arm away, and he glances briefly at the scar as well, pink and glossy against his inner arm. “This ludus is to be mine when the old man’s gone…. You gonna bear this mark as proudly in my name as you do his?”

“If I live that long,” Raleigh says. Chuck’s mouth twitches like he actually finds him amusing, and for some reason, this prompts Raleigh’s pride, and he adds, “If I haven’t bought my freedom by then.”

Chuck’s expression immediately goes sour, and he all but flings Raleigh’s arm away like it sickens him. “Why bother with thoughts of life outside these walls? You really think you’ll ever earn enough to buy your way out?”

Raleigh meets that hard gaze as evenly as he can, raises his eyebrows in a casually pensive look, and he says, “Well, I _am_ the Champion.”

Chuck’s eyes narrow, his nostrils flaring slightly, and he walks past Raleigh. He doesn’t leave the room, but calls out instead for someone to ‘come and get this mongrel.’ The same guard who’d brought Raleigh to him is suddenly there, and Raleigh swallows down a sigh, ready to bow to his dominus’ son and take his (much wanted) leave.

“My father wants him taken to his new cell,” Chuck snaps at the guard. Abruptly, he reaches over and grabs at Raleigh’s shoulder-length hair, yanking on it so sharply that Raleigh has to bite his tongue to keep from yelping or lashing out in response. “But first, get rid of this damn mess, yeah?”

“Your father –”

“Won’t give a _shit_ about his hair.”

The guard ushers Raleigh from the room, but not before he glimpses a puzzling expression on Chuck’s face – something he can’t at all read, one that looks both angry and disappointed at the same time. Raleigh inwardly curses. If he’s somehow caused offense in the younger Hansen the very first time they’ve interacted, Herc may not be as gracious a master as he’s been so far.

He’s taken back down to the ludus, the taste of blood still heavy in his mouth from biting his tongue. The guard seeks out a second, and after relaying Chuck’s wishes to him, they shove Raleigh to his knees. The haircut isn’t gentle. They take turns holding him in place, like he’s actually going to attempt to escape, and they use their daggers, quite obviously having fun with it. Raleigh just stares at the floor, watching his hair – blond, but darkened and matted with dust from the arena – flutter down around him to the stone floor, wincing every now and then as the blades nick his scalp, gritting his teeth to keep from making a sound.

His new quarters aren’t very different from the old, as he’d already slept by himself in a single cell like most of the other valued gladiators, but it _is_ a little bigger, and he figures he ought to be grateful for that. Thinks it must be some sort of tactic to encourage the others to push themselves to become Champion. He’s shoved inside, and though the guard slams the door shut, there’s no point in locking it – all Raleigh has access to from there is the training yard, where guards keep watch at the gate at all hours of the day. He paces his new space, running his fingers over his scalp gingerly, through the much, much shorter locks of hair, and he eventually lays down on his cot, stretching out on his stomach so as not to further harm his back.

He knows Chuck summoning him is bizarre, understands that there seems to have been no real reason for it (other than an impromptu haircut), but he doesn’t think much on it. Instead, he closes his eyes and relives the match against Clawhook – remembers the sound of the crowds chanting his name upon his victory, the way Herc had looked down at him with pride from the pulvinus where he and Chuck had been seated. He isn’t a gladiator by choice, but he’s good at it. So he goes along with it, does what people want him to do, and he racks up more wins for the Hansen ludus. What else is he supposed to do?

Just before sleep takes him, he reassures himself with the thought that Yancy would be proud of him.

 

* * *

 

The first summons turns out to be the first of many.

The next day starts off normal enough; after morning training, Raleigh’s eating lunch with the other gladiators and recruits. The Wei triplets, former criminals who’d been sentenced to a public execution but had somehow managed – each and every one of them – to survive, join him at the table he’s sitting at. The others have left him alone for the most part, as though it’s somehow forbidden to associate with him now.

“Nice big target painted on your back now,” says Jin – Raleigh doesn’t know them well enough to recognize the subtle differences in their appearances; he only knows it’s Jin because of the jagged scar down one side of his face from a sica in one of his earliest fights.

“With a pretty new haircut to go along with it,” says Hu – who Raleigh’s learned to distinguish from Cheung simply because Cheung rarely speaks.

Raleigh shrugs and turns his attention back to his food, which only makes the brothers share a chuckle of sorts with one another. Jin leans closer, resting his elbows on the table, and Raleigh raises his eyebrows at him.

“I’d watch out for that one,” Jin says, and he nods to gesture over Raleigh’s right shoulder.

Raleigh throws a quick glance behind him, sizing up the man Jin’s talking about. “You think so?” he asks. He doesn’t know the man, only that he’s a lot older and he’s very much in this for the fame.

“He’s been talking about being Champion since he got here,” Hu says. “And he got here at least _two_ years before you.”

As if he can sense that they’re talking about them, the man turns and looks right at Raleigh, who gives him a short nod that isn’t returned. He faces the Weis again and Hu laughs.

Out of nowhere, there’s suddenly a guard standing at the table, telling Raleigh to come with him. Raleigh hesitates – it’s not just any guard who’d come to get him, but the one that had helped to cut his hair, and maybe Raleigh wants to be a shit just for the fun of it. But after a moment, he stands, picking up his bowl and handing it off to Cheung on his way towards the gated stairs that lead up into the villa.

He’s almost forgotten about his odd encounter with Chuck, so it’s not at all unexpected when he’s led into and left in the room Herc spends most of his time in. It’s spacious and lavishly decorated, and it opens up onto the balcony above the training yard – which is where he finds the oldest Hansen.

Herc glances at him as he steps out onto the balcony to join him, his eyes tired and aged, and as he speaks, he smiles slightly. “Thought that was you down there but I almost didn’t recognize you – was just getting used to your wild mane. Personal choice?”

Raleigh just nods. Doesn’t feel the need to say it was Chuck’s wish for his hair to be cut. Somewhat because he knows Herc’s relationship with his son is strained enough as it is, partly because he doesn’t want to look like a childish tattletale, and mostly because what right does he have? He’s a slave.

Herc studies him, no doubt noting the bit of blood that stains Raleigh’s hair from the cuts on his scalp that he just can’t stop picking at and messing with, and then he looks away, frowning. “I hope you understand, Becket, that being Champion is a lot harder than being a simple gladiator.”

Raleigh could laugh. _Simple_? “Yes, Dominus.”

He looks down at the yard and watches as the fighters start trickling out from the eating area to begin their afternoon training. The Weis horse around with one another, and Raleigh darts a quick look at Herc, but the older man doesn’t seem bothered by their playing. Raleigh had learned very early on that Herc Hansen wasn’t like other lanistae in the city. Where they ruled their homes with iron fists and delighted in torturing their slaves, Herc treated them a lot more civilly – almost like employees or trainees. Raleigh gets the idea Herc doesn’t care much about owning slaves, but does so because he’s convinced himself that it’s better him than someone far more cruel.

And Raleigh sort of agrees with that.

“You don’t act like many others in your place would,” Herc says. “Aren’t you proud of yourself?”

Raleigh hesitates, contemplating his answer. He’s proud that he was strong enough to defeat Clawhook, sure. Proud that he could hold his own and make a name for himself thus far. But he’s not proud that he’s a slave, forced to fight in games he’d held no interest in before he and Yancy had been sold into it. And he’s certainly not proud of all the killing that he’s done.

“I’m… satisfied with my accomplishments,” he says.

Herc just watches him, reads between the lines and hears all the things Raleigh would never dare to say. “Given the circumstances?” he asks knowingly.

Raleigh’s jaw clenches, and he nods.

“Well, since I know you didn’t partake in any of the celebrations yesterday, have a drink with me, kid,” Herc says on a sigh, turning to go back inside.

Raleigh watches his fellow gladiators training for just a second longer, enough to watch Aleksis – jokingly referred to as Aleksis the Mountain or Aleksis the Bear among his fans – put a good hurting on Hu, much to the satisfaction of their Doctore. He follows Herc into the villa, lingering as he finishes pouring two cups of wine while his body slave stands nearby, looking almost disappointed that he would rather do it himself. After Herc turns and hands one of the clay cups to Raleigh, he goes to the long table in the center of the room and lowers himself heavily into one of the chairs. He raises his drink to his mouth but hesitates, glancing up at Raleigh, who’s remained standing. He gestures to the chair beside him, eyebrows going up, and Raleigh hastily slides into the seat. He’s long since over the awkwardness he’d first felt when wearing nothing but his subligaculum inside the clean and tidy villa.

Herc doesn’t say anything for a long while, and Raleigh knows better than to speak without being spoken to. He sits on the edge of his chair, sips at his wine obediently, and listens to the sounds coming from the ludus below – practice swords and shields colliding, Doctore barking out orders.

“Good, yeah?” Herc asks just as Raleigh’s taking another drink of the flavorful wine, and Raleigh quickly nods. “Keep putting on shows like yesterday’s, and we’ll be swimming in the best wine this world has to offer…. Though I know wine and riches aren’t really what you’re fighting for,” he adds, giving a weary little smile, that Raleigh briefly returns. “And if I were to ask what you _are_ fighting for…?”

Automatically, Raleigh says, “The honor of this house.” And Herc smiles again, amused. After a beat, Raleigh answers more honestly, “My brother.”

“Of course. I figured as much.” Herc sighs like the very act drains him of all of his energy, and he studies his cup with a meditative look on his face. “Never had a gladiator like him before, someone who could fall asleep standing up in the middle of the training yard.”

Raleigh can’t help it – he grins. It feels strange to do so, and it fades almost instantly at the pang he feels in his chest, the hard weight in his stomach whenever he really thinks about Yancy. He takes a big gulp of wine to try and make that feeling go away, and fortunately, it doesn’t take much effort – he’s trained himself well.

“Good fighter,” Herc goes on, sounding more like he’s musing to himself than anything. “Knew he would be when I bought him – he had that sort of look to him. You wouldn’t believe how many people stopped me afterwards, before I’d even made it back here, to try and buy him off of me.”

“But you kept him.”

“I knew you were brothers before I’d even spoken to either of you – covered in dirt like you both were, you almost looked like twins at first.” Herc’s expression tightens a little, and as he goes on, it’s with an air of nonchalance. “I didn’t want to separate you two. Knew that nearly everyone would rather die than part with their brother.”

Raleigh doesn’t ask, no matter how badly he wants to. He’d heard from some of the house slaves that had been there longer than he had that Herc has a brother, one he rarely speaks of and never – _ever_ – sees. Some say gambling was what had driven them apart, while others swear that Scott was simply jealous of Herc inheriting the ludus and left on his own, and a few yet believe Scott had had something to do with the death of Herc’s wife, which was why Herc had sent him away. Of course, there was also the theory that Scott’s existence is simply a rumor, that Herc doesn’t truly have a brother, which speaks to how bad the fallout must have been, Raleigh thinks.

He studies the older man, searches his mind for the right thing to say, and he lands on, “I’m grateful.”

Herc shakes his head and mutters, “Unnecessary.” And swiftly, he changes the subject. “How’re you liking your new quarters?”

“The extra inch of space is great.”

Like he’d hoped, Herc actually chuckles. The conversation gets a little lighter after that – there’s no more talk of Yancy, at least – and Herc goes on to tell Raleigh about what’ll be expected of him now that he’s Champion, like entertaining guests and letting people gawk at him like he’s some sort of prized piece put on display. Raleigh wilts a little, hearing it all. Before the death of his brother, he’d maybe been a little interested in tasting the sort of fame Herc’s talking about, but now… he’s not so sure he wants it at all. But then Herc reminds him, as if reading his mind, that the more eager people are to see him, the quicker he’ll be able to earn money.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it? To buy your way out of here?” he asks. At Raleigh’s hesitancy to answer, he says, “I know some lanistae might take that as an insult, but not me.”

“Yes,” Raleigh says shortly. “That’s what I want.”

Herc nods and stands up, setting his finished wine on the table. Raleigh makes a move to follow, but Herc holds his hand up to stop him. “Keep doing what you’re doing, and you’ll be there in no time. What exactly are you planning to do when you buy your freedom?”

And Raleigh feels a wave of gratitude towards the older man for saying ‘when’ and not ‘if.’ He shrugs and shakes his head at the same time. “Could always get some farmland outside the city.”

Herc seems a little impressed by that, nodding once more like he thinks it’s one of the best ideas he’s heard in a long while. He congratulates Raleigh on his win against Clawhook again, and then he says, “I shouldn’t keep you any longer. Finish your drink and return to the yard, yeah?”

“Dominus.” Raleigh bows his head.

After a last smile, Herc departs from the room, body slave in tow. Another slave seems to pop out of nowhere, swooping in to pick up Herc’s discarded cup, and Raleigh stands, handing his own off to her – he’d had enough wine, he doesn’t need to finish it, no matter his master’s orders.

“I’ll escort you back to the ludus,” she says, and Raleigh nods.

“That won’t be necessary,” says another voice.

Both Raleigh and the girl look up, finding Chuck standing just inside the doorway, arms folded over his chest. He looks as intense as he usually does, lip nearly curled up in arrogance, his eyes narrowed and fiery like he’s on a constant warpath. His gaze doesn’t leave Raleigh, and Raleigh stares back challengingly – son of his master or not, he’s an arrogant shit, and the nicks on Raleigh’s head burn as if to remind him of why he’d had to get a haircut in the first place.

“With me, Champion,” Chuck says.

Of course, Raleigh can do nothing but obey. He and the other slave share a look, mostly out of courtesy to each other, and then he crosses the room towards Chuck. Ripping his eyes off of Raleigh, Chuck turns and stalks off, leaving him to follow unquestioningly. He’s only slightly surprised that Chuck doesn’t take him downstairs and instead takes him through the villa to his private quarters, like the night before.

Remembering the pointlessness of that last summons, he hesitates. “Your father wanted me to –”

“I don’t rightly give a damn. I think he can spare a little leniency for his _precious_ Raleigh Becket,” Chuck says on a snort, turning to face him. He pauses, gaze roving over Raleigh, and he says next, “Your hair.”

“It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” Raleigh asks, a lot more sarcastically than he probably should.

Chuck doesn’t seem to notice his tone, however. He reaches up and Raleigh tenses, braces himself for whatever pain is about to come, and he has to force himself not to pull away. But Chuck’s touch is unpredictably tender as his fingers probe Raleigh’s scalp, and though the cuts flare up in pain at the simplest of contact, there’s also something… comforting about the feeling of someone one else’s fingers in his hair, something he hasn’t experienced in a long, long while.

“They weren’t supposed to hurt you,” Chuck grumbles.

Raleigh is so bemused that all he can do is stare at Chuck with a furrowed brow. Where the hell had such gentleness come from? He’d never in a million years have expected it from his dominus’ son.

Snapping out of whatever it’d been to put him in such a strange mood, Chuck jerks his hand away like Raleigh carries some lethal disease he fears catching. There’s the Chuck Hansen that Raleigh knows. “Heard all that shit the old man was telling you…. You really think you’re up for it? You gonna be the great _Champion_ everyone expects?” he asks sardonically.

“That’s the plan.”

“It’s not just fighting, you know? I mean, I know that’s all you’re good for, unfortunately, but you’ll be expected to do other shit too. Like when we have esteemed guests over, all wanting to take a look at the defeater of one of Chau’s best gladiators, you’ll be expected to…” he sweeps his gaze down Raleigh’s body, eyes seeming to linger on the only bit of clothing Raleigh’s wearing, and when he looks back at Raleigh’s face, he’s smirking a little, “ _Entertain_ them, should they desire it.”

Somehow Raleigh’s able to keep an expressionless face. He knows what Chuck’s getting at – it doesn’t take a genius to understand the meaning behind the words – and he knows it’s the truth. He’s heard from the other gladiators, one who’d previously been owned by another lanista in the city, about the sorts of things that people use them for. They’re slaves, after all. If your master tells you to pour wine, you pour wine. If they tell you to have sex with someone, you do it. Simple as that.

“You think you can handle that, slave?” Chuck asks, and it’s like he expects Raleigh to shrink at the notion, like he’s trying to break Raleigh’s spirit somehow.

So Raleigh juts his chin out, looks over Chuck’s shoulder so that he doesn’t have to look at that arrogant face, and he says, “I can handle whatever’s thrown at me.”

Chuck stares at him, but Raleigh doesn’t blink or look back at him, just continues to look over his shoulder as coolly as he can. The truth is, everything that Chuck’s telling him is the sort of stuff that makes him wish he hadn’t become Champion at all. He’s not averse to sex, of course, and god knows it’s been a long time since he’s actually done it (though some of the others often used their winnings to pay for the company of women from the local brothel). But doing it on command was something he’d managed to avoid up until now, and he’d like to avoid it for the rest of his life.

“Well,” Chuck says finally,” Reckon we ought to see how true that is.”

And then he’s reaching for Raleigh again, his eyes steady on Raleigh’s face, a challenge in his expression. It’s as though he wants Raleigh to give in and admit some sort of defeat, like he wants to get under Raleigh’s skin, but Raleigh’s own pride keeps him rooted to the spot, shoulders straight and arms at his sides. Maybe not _just_ pride, he thinks, but something like curiosity. How far does Chuck plan to go to prove his power over Raleigh? As far as Raleigh knows, Chuck’s not the sort of person who regularly does this with any of the family slaves, and if any of the gladiators were being summoned by him, surely someone would have said _something_.

Chuck’s hand goes to Raleigh’s bare chest, and the brush of his fingers is soft and almost tentative – surprising for him. His eyes drop to look at what he’s doing, and he slides the tips of his fingers down the center of Raleigh’s chest, following the shapes and lines of his muscles, his light touch something like a tickle against Raleigh’s skin. Some of the stoniness lifts from Chuck’s expression to be replaced with what Raleigh can only call interest – it almost seems as if Chuck’s holding his breath, as well – and Raleigh suddenly finds himself unable to look away from his face.

Herc Hansen is a good-looking guy. It was never hard to miss the fact, on account of him always being nothing but a generous master to his slaves. He might be rugged and a little rough around the edges, but with a charming smile and wise eyes, and strong, masculine features. So it shouldn’t come as any surprise that his son is attractive in his own right too. Youthful features that are just starting to harden and really mature – low eyebrows, a strong jawline – and subtle things one might not notice on first glance, like the perfect shape of his lips, resembling the bow of Cupid himself, and the spattering of freckles across his fair skin.

It’d been hard to tell before, what with the attitude Chuck possesses. But now that Raleigh’s taken notice, he can’t quite find it in himself to look away from the appealing sight.

Chuck’s fingers, having reached Raleigh’s waist, come to rest against the material of his subligaculum, and Raleigh takes a slow, deep breath. This simple gesture is enough to wake Chuck from whatever reverie he was in, and he returns his gaze to Raleigh’s face, looking almost like a child that’s been caught doing something wrong. His eyes meet Raleigh’s and they sort of just look at one another for a long moment – something passes between them, something unspoken that makes the air around them turn thick and electric, and for the first time in years, Raleigh knows what it feels like to actually _want_ someone. He _desires_ Chuck in this instant, crazily enough.

It goes away the minute Chuck’s mask returns, however.

Chuck jerks his hand away, and though he looks somewhat embarrassed and nervous, he covers it up with a  sneer. Unbelievably, Raleigh feels a little disappointed – had he been mistaken in what he’d felt? had it not been there at all? – but he promptly tells himself what an idiot he is. What does it matter what he felt? This is Chuck, they don’t even like each other. And before he knows it, he’s being led out of the room and shoved at the first guard they come across.

Chuck’s neck and ears are red as he barks out, “Take him downstairs – just get him out of my sight,” and he doesn’t spare Raleigh a single look before he abruptly stalks off.

Raleigh watches him go, at least until the guard gives him a push to get him moving. He doesn’t dwell on the fact that his second meeting with Chuck was even stranger than the first – he only gives himself time enough to think about how the youngest Hansen is obviously not as experienced or well-versed on matters he’d like to pretend he is. And Raleigh can’t help but wonder what had prompted Chuck to act in such a way in the first place.

He’s able to take his mind off of it for some time however, arming himself with two practice swords once he returns to the yard. He finds Cheung and spars with him, forces himself to focus on the fight and not the way his skin still seems to tingle from the ghosting touch of Chuck’s fingers on him. And when he feels eyes on him and glances up to find Chuck watching him from the villa balcony, Raleigh gives him a cool look and pretends not to care, tries to ignore him as he goes back to sparring.

 

* * *

 

His first fight as the Champion takes place in the primus of the very next gladiatorial games. It’s not a big event, hosted by one of the lesser magistrates in town, and the other ludus competing is home to mediocre gladiators – which, Raleigh is almost ashamed to admit, he thinks of as a relief. Hannibal Chau’s fighters are the best, and he’s still recovering from his match against Clawhook – he’ll take any respite he can get.

Despite this, the games are not without loss. The primus has two of Herc’s gladiators facing three from the other ludus, and the man Raleigh fights with is the very one Jin had told him to look out for. And after he manages to take out one of their competitors, his partner gets cocky – throws Raleigh a self-satisfied look, as if to tell him that he won’t be Champion much longer – and that boastfulness is his quick downfall. While Raleigh’s efforts are focused on the larger of the two remaining opponents, his partner is taken out by the other. And then it’s two against one.

But Raleigh didn’t make it to where he is on luck alone.

He’s quick and a lot more graceful than the other two, the larger of whom is encumbered by a heavy helmet and an oblong shield that he seems quite new at holding – they’re amateurs, but the best that the opposing ludus has to over. Raleigh knows he could end this quickly, could easily outsmart and outmaneuver them to take a speedy win. But he also knows what the crowd wants, knows what a good champion is supposed to do.

He draws it out, allows himself to take a hard hit from the helmeted fighter’s shield that knocks him to the ground. He lets them get him into compromising position after compromising position, just to hear the crowd roar their approval when he’s able to finesse his way to safety.

When he sees an opening, he kicks the legs out from under the helmeted man, and then he runs the other, the smaller of the two, through with one of his blades. The spectators, like bloodthirsty animals and not humans at all, howl for more. After getting back to his feet, the helmeted fighter makes an attempt to gain the upper hand, coming at Raleigh and swinging his shield powerfully, and Raleigh has no time to pull his sword free of the fallen man’s chest. So he leaves it, rolls quickly out of the way and just barely misses the hit, and he dives to his feet, spinning and bringing his remaining sword up to grasp with both hands.

There’s an instant where he and his opponent simply stare at one another, waiting – the sound of the crowd has become a dull drone in Raleigh’s ears, drowned out by the thick thrum of his pulse and the wild staccato of his heart. He could attack, surprise his adversary with a rushed brutality and end the match – and he wants to, for as addicting as this adrenaline is, he doesn’t take pleasure in taking the lives of other slaves, and would much rather get it over with as soon as he can – but he won’t. He waits.

It almost seems as though the other man will try and wait him out, but then he abruptly lunges forward, and Raleigh lets his training take over for him. Like before, he makes the fight last, panders to the people’s need for a good show. And when his opponent’s sword comes too close, Raleigh doesn’t dodge it – he lets it hit stomach and draw blood, a nonfatal cut that he pretends is worse than it is just to keep the crowd pleased and on the edge of their seats.

It doesn’t take much longer. If Raleigh draws it out too much, it’ll start to look staged, he knows, and his audience is a fickle one – what excites them one minute can easily bore them the next.

First, he disarms the man of his shield, which is easier than it would have been had he been fighting a more skilled gladiator. He tosses it aside and they spar with their swords for a brief period, Raleigh’s movements getting more powerful with each strike, advancing on his opponent until he’s backing up and can do nothing but use his blade to block Raleigh’s blows. And then, Raleigh feints – he pretends to strike from the side, and when the man brings his sword up to deflect the hit, Raleigh instead slashes upwards, effectively severing the man’s hand from his wrist.

He cries out, the sound seeming much louder than that of the spectators to Raleigh’s ears, and he collapses to his knees. He cradles the bleeding stump against his chest, and before Raleigh can continue, the man holds up his other shaking hand, putting up two fingers to signal his surrender and ask for mercy. Raleigh turns and looks up towards the pulvinus, at the magistrate to await his command – but he already knows what it’ll be. The crowd is hungry for more, they’d seen how poor a fighter this man was, even with Raleigh’s attempts to make the match last longer – they want him dead, and the magistrate wants them happy.

His thumb is pointed down.

Raleigh solemnly looks back at the kneeling gladiator, who’s colorless and petrified, and he reaches forward to take off the man’s helmet and toss it aside. He brings his blade up and rests the sharp edge of it against the man’s neck, and he apologizes just loud enough for the man to hear him over the excited buzz of the audience. When the downed gladiator squeezes his eyes shut, Raleigh rears back and swings. He gives the people what they want; he gives them his opponent’s head.

After raising his arms in victory, showing off for the ‘adoring’ fans who would waste no time in turning on him should the chance arise, he looks back towards the pulvinus, but not towards the magistrate. Instead, he looks to the magistrate’s left, at Herc, who nods at him in only the way he can: looking both proud and disillusioned at the same time. Then Raleigh’s gaze moves further left and lands on Chuck.

Chuck’s staring, his eyes boring into Raleigh even with the short distance separating them, and despite how enigmatic his expressions usually are, his face gives away everything this time. His jaw is clenched, lips pressed firmly together, but he’s gazing down with a fire in his eyes that reflects the exhilaration of the audience. He’s impressed – more than that, he’s moved and roused. And Raleigh’s frozen in place by the sheer intensity of the way Chuck looks at him, reminded of the last time they were alone, when Chuck had let his guard down in front of him and they’d had that electric moment.

Raleigh forces himself to turn away, and feeling rejuvenated because of the obvious desire in Chuck’s expression, he celebrates some more for the crowd.

 

* * *

 

Back at the ludus, Raleigh gets a few words of congratulations from Herc, and then he’s sent to the medicus to get his small wounds patched up. As per usual after the games, he buzzes with adrenaline even now, and the medicus gives him a hard time for fidgeting and being unable to sit still. Afterwards, while on his way to the baths, he’s intercepted by a guard. And he knows immediately who he’s being summoned by.

He’s led to and left at Chuck’s quarters, and Raleigh enters the dimly-lit room almost hesitantly, as he doesn’t know what to expect from the way Chuck had been looking at him. Chuck is pacing back and forth like a caged animal, but he comes to a sharp halt when he notices Raleigh’s arrival. And then, without a word, Chuck’s coming at him, and at first, Raleigh thinks he means to strike him.

Chuck shoves Raleigh back, slamming him against the wall – something that Raleigh lets happen, of course, as he knows better than to resist – and then he’s on Raleigh, an arm thrown across his bare chest, his body pressed flush against him, face only a few inches away from Raleigh’s. It’s impressive, the strength that Chuck possesses, and it seems ironic that a lanista’s son would have a build more suited to that a gladiator. There’s a hardness pressed against Raleigh’s hip, noticeable through Chuck’s tunic and toga, that sends a thrill sliding down Raleigh’s spine, sparking an interest in him that he hasn’t felt in ages.

They just stare at one another, neither of them saying anything. And then, Chuck starts to move against him. It’s unreal, dreamlike, and there’s a small part of Raleigh that feels like this is wrong, like he should feel shame for being used in such a manner. But he doesn’t feel used. And as Chuck’s breathing hitches audibly, the sound making Raleigh practically tingle with desire, Raleigh knows he wants this to happen. Has wanted it to happen for a while, though he’d tried to pretend differently. There’s a splash of red across Chuck’s face, highlighting the freckles that Raleigh hasn’t been able to stop thinking about since he’d first noticed them, but for as much as he’s blushing, there’s a bold set to Chuck’s jaw, and his movements pick up speed.

And hell if his determination doesn’t affect Raleigh.

He feels a wild heat drift south, and tentatively, he places a hand on one of Chuck’s hips, waiting for him to protest a slave’s audacity. But Chuck doesn’t seem to mind – in fact, he seems to relax a little, like Raleigh’s touch encourages him. Raleigh can feel himself starting to harden against the material of subligaculum, and his own breathing sounds a little shorter, his heartbeat loud in his ears. And Chuck’s just staring at him, eyes intense and burning, like they’d been when he’d been watching Raleigh in the arena. Seeing Chuck like this, seemingly so passionate, it’s hard to believe Raleigh had only ever thought him to be some one-dimensional brat whose only personality trait was self-importance.

Raleigh makes a soft noise in his throat, words that don’t quite form right, and he puts his remaining hand on Chuck’s waist to join the other. And then he tugs on Chuck’s hips slightly, somewhat worried he’s going to ruin the moment, and he lines their crotches up, pressing his cock against Chuck’s. He’s not yet even half as hard as Chuck is, but Chuck can’t miss it – and he looks like he’s surprised by it. Like he hadn’t expected Raleigh to actually enjoy this.

Despite the way Chuck’s got him pinned, Raleigh starts to move with him, rolling his hips forward and rubbing against Chuck through the clothes that separate them. It’s quick and base, with the two just looking into one another’s eyes like they’re trying to outdo each other. And after Chuck’s eyes flutter, his body giving an apparently involuntary jerk, he makes a low growling sound and fixes his gaze on Raleigh’s again, glaring at him like he’s angry that it feels good. And Raleigh actually smirks.

Chuck comes first. He gives a few final thrusts, movements sharp and abrupt, and then he goes stiff as a broken noise wells in his throat. He hangs his head some, body shuddering, and Raleigh is entranced by the way his face looks in the throes of his climax, the raw and unadulterated bliss in his expression. Chuck takes a deep breath to steady himself, murmuring something just a little too quietly for Raleigh to make out, and then he regains some of his composure.

He straightens, pulling away from Raleigh slightly, but he keeps that arm across his chest. He lowers his gaze to watch as he slides his other hand down Raleigh’s abdomen, then grabs him through his subligaculum. He squeezes. At Raleigh’s thick exhale, Chuck’s gaze snaps back up to his face, as though he wants to watch, and he starts to rub Raleigh, palming his cock roughly through the bunched fabric. Raleigh’s eyes close and he lets his head fall back against the wall, and he can feel Chuck’s eyes burning into him, knows they look the way they had at the games. He feels more smug and proud in this moment than he’s ever felt after a victory – knowing that Chuck looks at him in such a way, with such obvious desire in his gaze.

When he comes, Chuck doesn’t stop rubbing him until Raleigh’s body has completely ceased quivering and he slumps against the wall, thoroughly spent. He’d gotten no time to relax after the games, and Chuck has robbed him of the small amount of energy he’d been running on.

The next few seconds are silent, the air heavy and suffocating around them. Chuck releases Raleigh finally and paces away from him, cursing under his breath, and Raleigh steps away from the wall, straightening his shoulders. They’re back where they were before – a slave and his master’s son – and were it not for the deep fatigue Raleigh feels in his bones, he might even question whether or not it’d really happened.

Chuck doesn’t say anything else to him, but when he gets a guard to escort Raleigh to the ludus, he does give him a fleeting, parting look, his expression complicated. Not quite as icy as before, but like he’s irate at Raleigh for simply existing.

Raleigh finally gets his bath. A well-needed one, at that.

 

* * *

 

After that, it becomes a regular thing.

And Raleigh actually enjoys himself each time.

Practically every day, after Raleigh’s spent his time training in the yard and feeling Chuck watching him from the balcony, he gets summoned, usually late in the evening when no one else is around. Though things escalate and go a little further each time, it never leads to actual sex, mostly just Chuck wanting Raleigh to touch him, which Raleigh chalks up to a lack of experience, maybe. He surprises Raleigh one night by urging him to his knees and boldly telling him to use his mouth – something that Raleigh is all too happy to do, on account of the soft, sweet noises Chuck makes as he works him.

Especially because as Chuck comes, his fingers twisted into Raleigh’s hair and his eyes squeezed shut, he breathes out Raleigh’s name like it’s a secret that he just can’t keep anymore, and up until then, Chuck’s only ever addressed him as ‘Champion’ or ‘slave.’

 

* * *

 

The next gladiatorial games are cancelled, changed into an execution. The plans were to be Herc’s fighters against Hannibal Chau’s – a common occurrence, but one the people never tired of, as the rivalry was often the talk of the city – but the day of, Chau had to back out for some reason or another. Most people can’t just up and do that, Raleigh hears Herc venting to someone, he knows Chau’s got a number of magistrates in his pocket. He’s got no feelings on the matter himself, a fight is a fight is a fight, so Raleigh does his job. Goes out on the sands with a few of his brothers (a term he’s still not a fan of), shows off for the crowd, and does away with the criminals. He tells himself they deserve it, convinces himself that they’d done unspeakable things and that’s why they’d ended up there, even if he knows it’s probably not the case.

And after returning to the ludus – and getting cleaned up, of course – he isn’t surprised when a guard comes to get him. What does surprise him, however, is that when he gets up to the villa and finds his way to Chuck’s quarters, Chuck isn’t on him the minute that he enters, much like he’d been every other time. He’s already removed his toga and is wearing a simple tunic, but he doesn’t really seem all that interested in the stuff they usually do. Instead, Chuck’s just standing at the window that looks out opposite of the training yard. Looks out at freedom, Raleigh’s always thought.

“I have something to tell you,” Chuck says over his shoulder, not bothering to turn.

Raleigh furrows his brow, a little puzzled. He quickly wipes the expression off his face as Chuck faces him, smoothing out his features into what he hopes is a passive mask. Chuck studies him, staring long and hard.

“I’m your dominus now, slave. The old man has given you to me, no doubt to entice my interest in running this ludus when he’s no longer fit for it himself,” Chuck remarks, casual but monotone. He paces away to pour himself a cup of wine, a generous amount, with the air of arrogance that Raleigh’s learned he uses to cover up the times when he feels most insecure.

Raleigh’s taken aback by the news, but only a little. Herc isn’t an idiot, he’d surely noticed the interest Chuck suddenly had in the games and in watching the gladiators train. Of course, Raleigh doesn’t say anything, not that he’d even know where to begin – how is he supposed to react? should he be pleased? – and he simply stands there, obedient like he’s been trained.

Chuck turns back to him, throwing back a big swallow of the wine, and he sweeps his gaze over Raleigh’s mostly bare form. His eyes don’t look like this very often, dull and forlorn, without a trace of the heat they usually hold when he and Raleigh are alone. His mind is obviously elsewhere. But his gaze does linger on Raleigh’s subligaculum, and his mouth curves up just slightly with a smirk. “Reckon it doesn’t really change anything – you already did whatever I told you to before,” he says rather smugly, “But at least now you’re aware of who to call your master from here on out, yeah?”

It’s Raleigh’s turn to study him, and then he bows his head in a nod. Chuck visibly swallows, contemplating, and then he closes the distance between them.

“You disappointed?” he asks, snarky before Raleigh even has a chance to answer, his eyes narrowed.

“No…” Raleigh says, and meeting Chuck’s gaze rather pointedly, he adds, “Dominus.”

Chuck’s chest puffs up some, and his eyes seem to light up a little. He reaches up with his free hand to grab Raleigh by the side of his neck, his grasp firm, possessive, and he looks into Raleigh’s eyes for a long, silent moment. Despite his indecipherable expression, it’s obvious that Chuck is deep in thought, and Raleigh wishes it was his place to ask.

When Chuck blinks, he snaps out of it, and his cocky smirk returns again. He brings his other hand up, raising the cup of wine to Raleigh’s mouth, and Raleigh obliges, taking a drink. Chuck squeezes Raleigh’s neck a little, like he’s praising him for being so dutiful, and then he turns and stalks away from him. He finishes the wine and throws himself into a chair, and he raises his eyebrows as he stares at Raleigh.

“Well?” he says. “Don’t leave your master waiting.”

Raleigh nears Chuck, dropping to his knees in front of him. He places one hand against Chuck’s thigh, and he spreads the other over Chuck’s crotch, fingers shaping around him through his clothes. Chuck’s hand goes to Raleigh’s head, fingers carding through his hair – it’s growing back nicely, and he seems quite fond of the current length – and his body relaxes at Raleigh’s touch. Raleigh hadn’t even realized how tense he’d been.

He may have only ever started doing this because of Chuck’s position and power over him, but that’s not what motivates him anymore. Learning that Chuck is his dominus changes nothing, Raleigh decides, because he would have done this anyway. Because he’s grown to enjoy these trysts,  and because he’s found all the right buttons to push, all the things that get Chuck whimpering his name. And that’s a victory far better than any he could achieve on the sands.

 

* * *

 

The next games are announced at a party Herc hosts at the villa. The Games of Senator Pentecost, an event to celebrate, of course, the guest of honor at the party himself. Stacker Pentecost is one of the youngest senators the city has ever known, a former magistrate who’d worked harder than many of the others ever would to get to where he is – even Raleigh knows this much, as Herc often speaks of him. Raleigh and the other gladiators are dressed in their best armors and paraded through the villa for the guests while Magistrate Choi, the senator’s right hand man, relays the barest of information about the games. It will be a large event, with numerous ludi participating (the lanistae of which, are all in attendance), and that the matches would be revealed as soon as they were fully decided-on.

Later on, Raleigh stands with the others that Herc had pledged to the games, still and subservient as the party guests occasionally stop by to observe them. Herc organizes a little match for the partygoers, Raleigh versus Aleksis, and though they use real weapons, it’s just for entertainment, a fight to see who surrenders first. Aleksis has Raleigh beat on size and pure physical strength, but Raleigh’s a little quicker, and he’s able to show off just why he he’d earned his title. After Aleksis surrenders, the guests applaud, a pleased murmur moving through them.

“A fine show,” Senator Pentecost says, sandwiched between Herc and Hannibal Chau.

“Just a taste of what you’ll see at the games,” Herc says, giving Raleigh a barely noticeable nod. Raleigh vaguely thinks back to when Chuck had told him scornfully that he was Herc’s pride and joy – he’s conflicted on how to feel about that, because on the one hand, he’s flattered and satisfied with himself, and on the other, he feels like a prized pet more than anything. An object.

“Only it’ll be much better, ‘cause you’ll have my guys there,” Chau says with a laugh. He’s a loud, aggressive man with flamboyant clothing and too much jewelry, and Raleigh doesn’t like him. Doesn’t like the way he looks at him; like a lion sizing up a gazelle. And Raleigh hasn’t forgotten that it was one of Chau’s fighters to take Yancy away from him.

Sometime later, while he’s wishing he could disappear to his cell, Raleigh is suddenly joined by Chuck, who looks like he’s been dragged over by a young woman. It takes Raleigh but a second to recognize who she is – Mako Mori, the daughter of Senator Pentecost, adopted by him when he was still a magistrate after a massacre that had taken her family. When she and Chuck reach him, she comes to a quick stop and looks over Raleigh with curious interest, and Chuck doesn’t seem all that happy about it – as though he’d rather not have to share his slave. The other gladiators are being examined by a few of the guests – a blonde woman seems to have a particular interest in Aleksis – but Jin, standing a little way’s off to Raleigh’s left, flashes a teasing smile.

“I imagined him differently,” she says. “He’s younger than I thought he’d be.”

“Age counts for nothing,” Chuck says gruffly. Speaks to her like they’re old friends, in a way others probably wouldn’t dare speak to an official’s daughter. For the tiniest of seconds, Raleigh feels a touch insecure as he considers their relationship – at least, until Chuck goes on, puffing up and looking at Raleigh proudly. “You saw how he moves, Mori.”

“He _is_ something,” she agrees. Her gaze starts to move down Raleigh, but then quickly returns to his face, an embarrassed and almost apologetic smile coming to her expression. It’s strangely infectious, and Raleigh’s mouth twitches in a small smile of his own, before he ducks his gaze.

“That’s why he’s the people’s favorite,” Chuck grumps. He seems to take personal offense at Mako’s interest in Raleigh, and he looks very much like he wants to guide her away as quickly as they’d showed up. He starts to gesture for them to keep going, and he says, “That’s why he’s going to win at Pentecost’s games.”

“Oh, that’s right; the Champion belongs to Baby Hansen these days, doesn’t he?” says a completely different voice, that of Hannibal Chau.

Raleigh doesn’t trust himself to look at the rival lanista, so instead he keeps his gaze focused on Chuck, whose eyes narrow, nostrils flaring in irritation. His shoulders have tensed and gone square, chest sticking out indignantly, and Raleigh thinks Chau ought to feel lucky that looks can’t kill – because there is murder in Chuck’s eyes.

“Why’d your old man give him to you anyway? I seem to recall a boy who had no interest in the games before,” Chau says, chuckling. He puts his big hands on his hips, stands in a way that conveys his complete and utter superciliousness, and he goes on, “Doesn’t seem like such a smart idea – is the so-called Champion supposed do better under the sponsorship of an indifferent child?”

Chuck’s expression tightens. But it’s Mako who speaks first.

“Raleigh Becket has done a excellent job so far, Mister Chau,” she says, politely but coolly, and she moves to stand directly at Chuck’s side.

“Sure, sure – he’s a had a good enough reign,” Chau says dismissively, swatting at the air like he can’t be bothered with the notion.

Chuck bristles, and the resentment rolls off of him in waves. “Oi, if I’m remembering correctly, it was one of _your_ guys he beat to become Champion, wasn’t it?” he sneers.

Raleigh finally looks up at Chau. The pompous smirk is still there, but a bit of ice has seeped into his features, hardening them, and the scar over his left eye only adds to how menacing he can look when he wants to. “Yeah, well, people get lucky,” he says to Chuck, low and dangerous-sounding. He turns his gaze on Raleigh, and Raleigh’s stomach tightens into a fist, knowing before the man even speaks what he’s going to say. “And I’ve already seen one Becket fall at the hands of one of my gladiators – the second shouldn’t be so hard.”

For a split second, Raleigh feels like time has stopped. He hears nothing but the sound of his own pulse, and his fists clench at his sides so tightly he can feel his fingernails cut into the skin of his palms. His teeth grind together and it’s a good thing his tongue isn’t in the way, or he’d bite it clean in half, and he feels like he’s just been doused in boiling water, the heat crawling up his neck and into his face until red is all he sees. He twitches, starting to move without even considering it – he just wants to hurt Chau, make him eat his words. He wishes the weapons he’d used against Aleksis hadn’t been taken away, but figures he could just as easily strangle him with his bare hands.

Chuck abruptly steps in front of Raleigh, glaring at the lanista. “We’ll see at the games, Chau,” he snaps, sounding as angry as Raleigh feels.

“I’m confident we will,” Mako remarks with poise. “Hercules’ gladiators have grown quite impressive in the past year or so, and your house, Mister Chau, has frankly… begun to disappoint, sorry to say.”

For some time, nobody says anything. Chuck and Mako stare evenly at Chau, who looks between them like a shark sizing up its prey, and Raleigh just stands there, seething, unable to say anything because he’s just a slave. He’s almost shaking he’s so angry, and his bones feel tight and ready to snap, like old rope pulled taut.

Finally, Chau gives a small, dry laugh. “Yeah, I guess we’ll see then,” he says. He sweeps his gaze over Raleigh once more, who can’t help but to jut his jaw out, lip curling, but Chau’s expression relaxes, the complacent smirk growing. “Since I didn’t get the chance to say before, kid  -- nice haircut. Hope it helps your winning streak,” he says sardonically. And with a nod, he turns to stride away.

The three of them watch his retreating back, and then Mako tosses Raleigh a soft little smile. Raleigh drops his gaze again, bowing his head to her slightly. He’s embarrassed that he couldn’t say or do anything to defend his brother’s name, ashamed, even – and he feels useless; feels like a disappointment to Yancy.

Chuck heaves a quick sigh that sounds more like a growl than anything. “Wouldn’t mind going toe-to-toe with him on the sands myself,” he hisses. “I’d tear the bastard apart.”

“Chuck…” Mako chides lightly.

“I’m sick to death of the shit that spews from his mouth,” Chuck says. “The things he says about my father, I’d love to –”

“ _Chuck_ ,” Mako says a little more pointedly, and she jerks her head at Raleigh like she’s telling him that he shouldn’t be saying this in front of other people.

He looks at Raleigh, who catches his gaze, and Chuck seems to visibly relax a little, as though the sight of Raleigh anchors him. They stare at one another for a moment before Mako starts to speak, drawing Chuck’s attention once more.

“I have to talk with my father,” she says. With a sympathetic look, she adds softly, “After you compose yourself, I suggest you join me.” And after another small smile at Raleigh, she strides away, head held high.

Chuck moves, paces right and left, and then comes to a stop in front of Raleigh, who looks at the floor. There’s a murderous air about him, but he speaks in a low, secret tone, almost like he means to reassure Raleigh. “Don’t listen to bloody Chau. He’s an old, irrelevant shit; scared because he knows he’s becoming obsolete.”

Raleigh nods, keeping his gaze lowered. “Dominus.”

“ _Raleigh_ ,” Chuck says. And his voice sounds so strange and anxious that it makes Raleigh’s head snap up. His eyes are wide, more open than they usually are, and Raleigh’s stunned by the sheer emotion burning in them – where’s the spoiled, bratty kid Raleigh had first thought he was? This surely isn’t the Chuck everyone else knows.

Raleigh softens his gaze, nodding. “I’m not worried about him,” he says lightly.

Chuck swallows and blinks, but says nothing. He studies him for what feels like an eternity but is surely no longer than a minute, and he looks like he wants nothing more than to touch Raleigh – and hell, a part of Raleigh wishes more than anything that he would. But then Chuck gives a single, curt nod, and he turns to walk away.

Raleigh takes a steadying breath, and he sweeps his gaze over the party, avoiding looking at Jin or any of his fellow gladiators, not caring for their reactions to the exchange with Chau. He instead catches sight of Herc across the room, who has an inquisitive look on his face, almost as though he’s trying to figure Raleigh out. Raleigh quickly looks away, feeling strangely guilty. What for, he doesn’t know.

 

* * *

 

It isn’t a guard who comes for Raleigh later on that night, but Chuck’s body slave.

The gladiators weren’t dismissed from the party until it was over and the guests were leaving. When Raleigh was finally able to return to his cell, it wasn’t soon enough – he’d barely given the ludus slaves enough time to help him strip his armor. He’d thought that getting to his room would solve everything, would settle him and make him feel better – but it doesn’t.

He can still see Hannibal Chau’s smug face in his mind’s eye. And he still wants to punch it in.

When the other slave comes to the door, knocking only briefly before opening it, Raleigh utters a heavy sigh, because _now_? He really isn’t in the mood for any of this, no matter his feelings for Chuck. He just wants to sleep, wants to wake up bright and early and train until his arms are numb and he’s too sore to move.

But his dominus calls.

He follows Chuck’s slave up into the villa – they’re stopped briefly at the gate separating the home from the ludus, where the guard looks over Raleigh somewhat disdainfully as he unlocks it – and Raleigh is left alone just outside of Chuck’s quarters. He pauses, trying not to look as anxious as he feels, and then he enters. It takes him a moment, in the softly shadowed interior, to find Chuck, but when he does, he suddenly isn’t all that disappointed to have been summoned anymore.

Chuck’s seated on the end of his bed, completely nude. He looks up at Raleigh, and even with the slight darkness cast throughout the room, Raleigh can see the faint color to his cheeks, though Chuck seems to be pretending it isn’t there. Raleigh lets his gaze roam over the younger man quickly, taking him in – up until now, their jaunts have been over the clothes, with Raleigh going under Chuck’s tunic when the time called for it. Chuck’s a lot more broad than he looks in his clothing, stocky and thick, and Raleigh longs to see if those sturdy shoulders are covered in the freckles that dust his face.

Chuck stands and Raleigh can’t stop his gaze from being drawn downwards to admire the line of his hips, to gaze at Chuck’s cock, which is soft against his pale thigh. Raleigh’s throat has gone dry, desire washing over him immediately, and he raises his gaze back to Chuck’s face. “You called?” he says, somewhat playfully.

Chuck’s mouth twitches. “Undress,” is his response.

And well, Raleigh can’t disobey. He unwraps his subligaculum and pulls it off, dropping it to the floor at Chuck’s nod of approval. Chuck closes the distance between them, taking slow, even strides, and his eyes rake over Raleigh, his stare bold and appraising. Raleigh’s all too conscious of his beating heart, takes a breath so as to keep himself under control when all he wants to do is touch Chuck. No matter whatever this is between them, he knows his position, knows he must wait.

Chuck reaches up and places a hand against the side of Raleigh’s neck, spreads his fingers and brushes his thumb along the line of his jaw, the soft touch sending a thrill through him. “I want you…” he says a little undecidedly, like he doesn’t know how to put it, “I want you to fuck me.”

Raleigh nods, and if he leans into Chuck’s touch, it’s brief and natural. Chuck’s words go right through him, piercing him like an arrow, and he feels them in his groin. “Have you ever…?”

“Not like this…. Girls,” Chuck says.

“Mako?”

“Don’t be gross – she’s like my sister,” Chuck snorts, reclaiming his hand.

“I didn’t realize you were so close,” Raleigh says.

“Before Pentecost become Senator, when he was just a magistrate, he was a patron to the ludus and he and the old man were close. Mako and me spent a lot of time together as kids,” Chuck explains. He cocks his head a little, his eyebrows going up. “Why? Were you worried?”

Raleigh considers only briefly before he says simply, “Yes.”

Chuck flashes a surprised grin, showing off his dimples, but he quickly bites it back and replaces it with an arrogant smirk. He reaches for Raleigh again, only this time, he grabs him by the shoulder, and Raleigh lets himself be shoved towards the bed, pushed down onto his back. Then Chuck climbs over top of him, laying flush against him, and his hand returns to Raleigh’s neck, fingers shaping Raleigh’s jaw and tilting his head so that he can stare down into his eyes.

“Don’t worry, there could never be another – not while bloody Raleigh Becket exists,” he says, and he’s the only person Raleigh’s ever met who can sound both affectionate and contemptuous at the same time. He snorts and shakes his head. “It’s humiliating, you know, that a slave can affect me so.”

“No more humiliating than the fact that a stubborn and prideful man-child can affect _me_ so,” Raleigh says.

Chuck grins again, and this time he doesn’t try to hide it. He does dip in and crush his lips against Raleigh’s hard enough to bruise, and this is the first time they’ve actually kissed like this. Before, Raleigh assumes it was Chuck’s way of keeping their positions in tact – Chuck the master, Raleigh the slave – and their mouths never even came close to touching. Raleigh hadn’t at all realized how badly he’d craved it however, and he all but melts beneath Chuck, slanting his mouth against his and trying to mirror the intensity of the brutal kiss.

Somewhat cautiously, he slides his hands up Chuck’s sides, and then over his shoulders, before shoving his fingers into Chuck’s hair. Chuck relaxes above him, a barely audible sigh leaving him, muffled against Raleigh’s mouth, and he thrusts his tongue between Raleigh’s lips, like if they’re going to do this, he’s sure going to do it thorough. He wriggles his hips slightly, his bare cock pressing into Raleigh’s, and the contact wakes Raleigh up, like the first sparks of a fire.

In only a few short moments, Raleigh’s rolling up against Chuck, growing harder by the second – and most of it comes from the mere idea of what Chuck wants him to do. He snakes one of his hands between their bodies, grabbing Chuck’s cock – which is considerably softer – and starting to stroke him in sharp, quick movements. Chuck breaks the kiss, a shuddery breath leaving him, and he lifts up a little so that he can look down and watch as he grows stiff in Raleigh’s firm grasp.

Raleigh leans in and mouths at Chuck’s neck, right at the point where his pulse thrums beneath the warm skin. Chuck makes a soft, gasping noise, becoming somewhat pliant in Raleigh’s hands, which Raleigh uses to his advantage, rolling Chuck onto his back and sliding easily between his legs. He makes a mental note of his dominus’ weak spot, filing it away for future reference, and he trails his mouth across Chuck’s collarbone – pleased to see the freckles there. As he starts to kiss a line down the center of Chuck’s chest, he wraps the fingers of one hand around Chuck again, stroking quickly and effortlessly, like it’s a job he was born to do.

Chuck suddenly moves, writhing away from Raleigh and stretching towards the side of the bed, arm out and hand searching, and when he brings it back, he shoves a small vial in Raleigh’s face. Keeping his one hand busy along Chuck’s shaft, Raleigh takes the vial in his other, turning it over and studying it even though he knows instinctively what it is.

“Have you ever…?” Chuck echoes Raleigh’s earlier question, a little breathless. Raleigh opens his mouth to answer, and Chuck cuts him off, seeming to think better of his question, “A simple yes or no will suffice, Ray, I don’t need to hear the details.”

Raleigh smirks. “Yes.”

“Good.”

Raleigh has to bite back a laugh, and he sits up on his knees, pulling the stopper out of the vial and tilting it to pour a good amount of the oil out into his palm. After closing the small bottle and setting it aside, he rubs his hands together and spreads the liquid around. Then he takes a hold of Chuck’s cock again with one hand, his strokes smoother and aided by the oil, and he lowers his other hand and brings it to Chuck’s ass. He glances up at Chuck’s face as he presses his slick fingers against him, and Chuck looks back with a set, determined jaw.

He spends only a little time preparing Chuck for him – working his fingers in and out of him, stretching him – because Chuck grows very impatient, very quickly. He grumbles a little and pulls away from Raleigh, before he rolls over and gets on his hands and knees, looking over his shoulder at Raleigh with a hint of annoyance. It’s a look that Raleigh almost misses, as he’s more than a little distracted by the sight of Chuck’s ass, which, up until now, he’s never gotten a good look at, of course.

Sliding his hands down the younger man’s back, he then smoothes his palms over the taut, muscular cheeks, squeezing some. Chuck leans into the touch, but he huffs a little, rolling his eyes.

“Think you can do the whole worshipping thing later, mate?” he asks.

And Raleigh would love to take his time. He would just love to go at his own pace and do exactly what he wants: torment Chuck and build him up slowly, make his release all the more intense. But this isn’t about what he wants – Chuck is his master. So he obeys.

He pours a little more oil into his hand to lube up his cock, slathering it along his shaft evenly, and then he moves closer to Chuck, one of his hands going to the small of Chuck’s back, applying a little pressure to angle him in the right way. His other hand stays around the base of his cock, guiding it, and he wastes no more time in pressing into Chuck, his breath catching in his throat as the tip slides past the tight ring of muscle. Chuck makes a low sound in his throat and drops his head, but he doesn’t make to move away, so Raleigh keeps going.

When he’s buried completely inside of Chuck, Raleigh has to stop and steady himself, to make sure he doesn’t get lost to the moment. Because for some time now, while he lay awake at night, he’d often thought of nothing but this – and he’d never actually imagined that it would happen.

He goes slow at first. Withdraws just to the very tip and then pushes easily back into Chuck, like sinking into a warm bath, and then he pauses for a momentarily before doing it all over again. And Chuck’s breathing becomes short and labored, but he presses back every time Raleigh moves forward, meeting the motions eagerly, even despite his discomfort. He mutters something indistinctly and goes to his elbows, flattening his chest against the mattress, and Raleigh takes that as his cue to pick up the pace.

He brings one of his knees up, bracing his foot on the mattress for easier leverage, like a man crouching at the starting line just before a race begins, and he starts thrusting into Chuck harder. A surprised moan leaves Chuck, like he hadn’t expected Raleigh to be so fierce, but then he starts saying things like, “Just like that,” and, “Don’t bloody stop.” Raleigh’s hands both go to the meaty part of Chuck where the top of his ass just meets his back, and he squeezes just to see the way his fingers dimple the fair skin, and he uses his grasp on him to pull him back to meet his movements.

Raleigh pushes his own pleasure to the back of his mind – no easy feat, as Chuck is hot and tight, clenching around Raleigh’s cock like he means to pull him in even deeper – and he focuses on giving Chuck everything he wants. He reaches up with one hand to smooth his sweat-dampened hair back and away from his face, and instead of returning it to Chuck’s waist, he instead reaches around Chuck to grab his cock, which bounces with the force of Raleigh’s hard drives into him. Chuck curses, tightening around Raleigh briefly at the pleasure his hand brings, and then Raleigh starts to pump Chuck’s dick hard and fast, in sync with his thrusts.

It’s been some time since Raleigh had been with another man like this, and even all the nights he’d spent rutting against Chuck while they’d both remained dressed couldn’t have compared to this – his balls feel heavy and more than ready for release, he could come right now if he let himself – but he refuses, of course, to finish before his dominus does. So he grits his teeth and ignores the mounting fire inside of him, thinks only of Chuck – his angry and beautiful master, and so much more than Raleigh had ever anticipated of him.

Abruptly, Chuck jerks and grunts out, “ _Stop_ ,” and fleetingly, Raleigh worries he’s hurt him. But Chuck just wants to switch positions – he pulls away from Raleigh, who also pulls back, his cock nearly throbbing in protest as it slips from Chuck’s ass, and Chuck turns over onto his back. He parts his legs and Raleigh doesn’t need to be told to move between them, a hand going to the mattress to brace his weight. One of Chuck’s legs hooks around his waist as he props his ass up, and Raleigh reaches down with his other hand to guide himself to Chuck’s hole once more. As he slides in without a word, Chuck groans and lets his head fall back – and it’s like they hadn’t stopped at all.

Raleigh starts thrusting again, trying to find the same rhythm as before, and biting the inside of his cheek as he concentrates on keeping his own climax at bay. He slides his free hand, the one not holding himself up, along one of the younger man’s thighs, and then he wraps his fingers around Chuck’s cock again and squeezes, earning himself a sound not unlike a whimper. He only manages a few strokes, however, before Chuck reaches down and shoves his hand away, taking his cock into his own hand. As Raleigh watches, Chuck starts pumping himself in short, aggressive motions, his hips moving up to fuck into his fist even as Raleigh drives into him. And the sight of Chuck touching himself, the way he moves beneath Raleigh, with the muscles in his abdomen flexing beneath the skin visibly – it’s almost too much.

And Raleigh can’t help himself – a shaky moan leaves him, his thrusts faltering. He braces both hands on either side of Chuck now, steeling his arms so they don’t give out on him, and he bites his tongue a little too late, as the sound’s already left him.

Chuck flashes a smug grin, despite his breathlessness and the wanton flush to his cheeks, and he asks, “You like that? Watching me?”

Raleigh nods.

“I can’t hear you,” Chuck says through his teeth.

Raleigh moans again, hips losing their momentum once more as a pleasurable shudder ripples through him, and he says, “ _Yes_ , Dominus.”

That’s when Chuck comes. His head falls back again as he groans brazenly, the veins in his neck popping, and he arches against the mattress. He continues the rough stroking of his cock even as it paints stripes up his stomach and chest, and if the sight of Chuck climaxing wasn’t already enough to make Raleigh lose it, the way his ass squeezes around Raleigh’s dick surely is. He hisses a curse, eyes squeezing shut, and he goes to pull out of Chuck, but Chuck just tightens the leg he has around Raleigh’s waist, refusing to let him move.

So Raleigh does as Chuck wants, and he comes inside of him.

When his orgasm starts to ebb, he rolls slightly against Chuck, riding it out, and then the two of them are just panting and trying to catch their breath. One of Chuck’s hands slides up to Raleigh’s shoulder, fingers seeming to want to memorize the contours, and then it drifts down Raleigh’s arm, grasping his elbow.

He laughs, winded but cocky, and he says, “You fuck like you fight.”

“You’re welcome,” Raleigh says.

And this time his laugh is more amused. They both fall silent however, and as Raleigh pulls his softening cock out of Chuck’s ass, Chuck’s arrogant little smile fades and he stares hard at Raleigh, almost like he’s trying to look into him. The hand that’s on Raleigh’s elbow moves back up over his shoulder, and then Chuck’s fingers are playing at the base of Raleigh’s throat – at the scar he knows is there, from a fight with Yamarashi, one of Chau’s gladiators. It could have been a fatal wound, had Yancy had not intervened, and had it been a singles match and not two against one, Raleigh would have been the first Becket to meet his death in the arena.

Chuck studies the scar and Raleigh watches his expression, the deliberation in his half-lidded eyes, the part of his lips as his breathing just starts to regulate. And then Chuck says, as if just realizing it for the first time, “You could be killed any day.”

Raleigh gives him a small half-smile. “A lot of faith you have in your Champion.”

Chuck’s gaze remains on the scar, as does his fingers, and when he speaks again, it’s more candid than Raleigh’s ever heard. “My father’s been a lanista for as long as I can remember – I’ve seen more death than anyone my age probably should. But just the thought of watching you die….”

Raleigh isn’t sure if Chuck wants him to say anything, and he certainly doesn’t know what _to_ say, so he chooses to remain quiet instead. He swallows, and the motion draws Chuck’s attention, and he lifts his eyes to look at Raleigh’s face again. The air around them feels dense as they watch one another, like time’s stopped, and Chuck’s expression is harder to read than ever, something Raleigh would like to blame on the shadows that dance across his face from the flickering candles at the bedside.

Chuck gives Raleigh’s neck a small squeeze that can only be called affectionate, and then he releases him and nudges at him with a leg to get him to move. Things feel strained as Raleigh puts his subligaculum back on, and Chuck, who doesn’t bother to dress – most likely because he plans on having a bath – calls for his body slave to take Raleigh back down to the ludus. Before Raleigh leaves however, Chuck gives him a surprisingly fond look, fingers combing through his hair briefly.

And when he’s alone in the ludus baths, Raleigh can’t stop himself from considering Chuck’s words, playing them over and over in his head.

 

* * *

 

When he’s summoned in the middle of the day later on in the week, Raleigh is confused, since Chuck never sends for him during the day. But it turns out to be Herc, and the lanista gets Raleigh to sit down in the atrium and play a game of Latrunculi with him. Raleigh doesn’t do too well – he’s a good fighter, but not the best strategist – and eventually Herc reveals that he hadn’t summoned Raleigh just to play a board game.

“My son thinks I’m an idiot,” he remarks.

Raleigh doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know if Herc even wants him to say anything, so he fumbles with his words. “I, ah, I don’t –”

“No, he does,” Herc says very casually, as though they’re discussing the weather. “He thinks I’m too far up my own ass to see the sort of stuff that goes on under my roof.” He glances up from the game board at Raleigh, and though he looks almost like he wants to laugh, Raleigh shifts in the chair and drops his gaze uncomfortably. “Trust me, if I were angry about you and him, this isn’t how I’d be handling it, Becket.”

Raleigh glances back at him very briefly, nods, and then he pretends the game holds more interest. He hadn’t imagined yet how this conversation might play out, _if_ it ever did, and he doesn’t at all know what to say about it. It isn’t like he’s courting Chuck, they aren’t two normal people giving a relationship a try – things are a lot more complicated than that. Raleigh shrugs and shakes his head. “I’m just doing what’s asked of me,” he says finally. Leans forward to take his turn.

“Sure, sure – no more, no less, right?” Herc asks. He sighs and hunches a little, propping an elbow on one of his knees, and he studies the board. “I don’t know…. I spent so long trying to get him involved in the games, to ignite just a little interest in him so that when it came time for him to take over the ludus, it’d be easier. So when I saw the way he looked at you, I thought maybe that’d do the trick; maybe he’d finally give a shit.”

Raleigh glances back at Herc, whose eyebrows are drawn together as he appears to inspect the game board. He looks much older than he usually does, and apparently the ability to make one’s expression as enigmatic and hard to read as possible is one that runs in the family. Raleigh could curse the Hansen line for being so damn inscrutable all the time.

“So I made a big show of giving you to him,” Herc goes on, taking his turn and capturing one of Raleigh’s pieces. “Wanted him to feel a deeper investment to his birthright. Mistake on my part, of course, because he still doesn’t care – probably just to spite me. And the most messed up thing about that is that I’m actually kind of… proud.”

“I had wondered,” Raleigh says quietly, and when Herc glances at him, Raleigh manages to hold his gaze. “Why you’d given me up, I mean.”

A smirk comes to the older man’s face. “The things a parent’ll do to try and get in their kid’s good graces, yeah?” he takes his second move and then sits back in the chair, cocking his head some as he surveys Raleigh. “For as lacking as his concern for the ludus is, he seems to care a great deal about you.”

Raleigh thinks back to the night of the party. First had been the way Chuck had reacted to Chau’s comment about Yancy, how angry and worried for Raleigh’s sake he’d seemed. And then the words he’d let slip after he and Raleigh had had sex, as though he’d be gutted were Raleigh to die in the arena any day. He blinks, dropping his gaze. “I don’t know,” is all he’s able to say.

“I don’t think he knows either. Smart kid, just very… insecure,” Herc says. “Suppose I just wanted you to know I don’t care. That you’re, you know –”

“A slave?” Raleigh gives him a small smile, eyebrows going up.

Herc returns the smile, only his is without humor, exhausted and tight. “Right. Until you earn enough to walk out of here a free man,” he says. And the thought makes Raleigh hang his head some because it’s starting to sound like a pipedream, an unattainable goal – he’s been at the ludus for so long he can’t even remember how many years it’s been. “Still want to be a farmer after that?”

Raleigh nods.

Herc mirrors the motion, and then he heaves a sigh. “Believe it or not, there’s a real reason I called you up here. I know –”

“What’s going on here?”

They both look up to see Chuck striding through the atrium towards them, carrying with him the air of an oncoming storm, like he’s ready to get into a fight with anyone who looks at him wrong, like always. Instinctively, Raleigh straightens in his chair, shoulders squaring, and though Chuck glances at him only briefly, his features seem to soften just slightly as his eyes drink Raleigh in.

“Raleigh was just humoring me with a game,” Herc says. “He’s rather good at it.”

“Of course he is, he’s good at everything,” Chuck says childishly. “Now, is it alright with you if I take _my_ gladiator off your hands, old man?”

It seems like Herc is going to argue just for the sake of arguing – Raleigh figures Chuck has to get his hotheaded nature from somewhere – but then he sighs and gestures as though to say, ‘ _Be my guest_.’ Chuck’s gaze goes back to Raleigh, expression giving clear direction, and Raleigh stands, making his way to his dominus’ side.

“I know who his opponent will be at Stacker’s games,” Herc says, starting to clear the game board.

“What washed-up thug of Chau’s is it this time? Leatherback? Raiju?” Chuck asks with both a scoff and a roll of his eyes, proving that Herc had been right – that he truly cares nothing for the sport.

Herc glances at Chuck, looking like he wants to ask him to just pretend to be interested for once in his life, but then his eyes go to Raleigh. Rather seriously, he says, “Knifehead.”

 

* * *

 

It was supposed to be a two-on-one match, like Yamarashi. Raleigh isn’t sure why it’d been changed, has never found out who’d made the decision to take it down to one-on-one. All he knows is that it took his brother away from him. Together they could have defeated Knifehead, whose name seemed to come from the sharp helmet he wears, but alone, Yancy could only do his best, and his best hadn’t been good enough.

Raleigh had seen it happen. After having already won his own match earlier in the same day, he’d stood just inside the gate that opened up onto the sands, where the other gladiators were permitted to watch, and he’d seen how hard Yancy had fought. Sometimes, he even swears he’d felt it – like they’d been of the same mind. In those final moments, he’s sure he’d felt his brother’s fear, his distress and anguish, and then he’d seen Yancy’s lifeless body hit the ground. And the audience, how they’d reveled and cheered….

“Say something.”

Raleigh blinks a few times, coming out of his thoughts. He’s seated at the end of Chuck’s bed beside the younger man, and he straightens as he turns to face Chuck almost guiltily. After Herc had told him about Knifehead, Raleigh had come to Chuck’s quarters with him, only he hadn’t been as good company as he usually is, he realizes, as he’d allowed himself to get lost in thought.

“I’m sorry,” is what he says. Mindlessly, as though it’s natural now, he reaches over and slides his hand up Chuck’s thigh, seeking his cock out through his clothes.

Chuck’s fingers wrap around his wrist, tight like a steel manacle, and he makes a dismissive noise in his throat, stopping Raleigh. Raleigh raises his gaze to look at him again, and Chuck watches him. He looks almost expectant, like he’s waiting for Raleigh to say something.

So Raleigh searches his brain. “I can still see Chau’s smug smile…” he admits, and as Chuck’s fingers slip away, he pulls his hand back and drops it in his lap. “He did this on purpose.”

“Of course he did,” Chuck says. He shoves himself to his feet and stalks away from the bed, shoulders tight and tense. “He’s got ties to every bloody magistrate in the city, the sleazy bastard. Whatever he wants, he gets – that’s how it’s always been.” He suddenly turns back to Raleigh, his hands going to his hips. “Why’re you acting so upset about it? Come on – you’re the _Champion_. Knifehead’s just another man.”

Raleigh shakes his head, looking down, but he doesn’t say anything. He can’t exactly tell Chuck that he doesn’t understand without it sounding condescending and offensive.

Fortunately, Chuck rushes on. “And think about it, you’re getting a chance that some would kill for – you can fight the man responsible for your brother’s death.”

“Revenge won’t bring Yancy back,” Raleigh says.

“But it’ll feel damn good,” Chuck says.

And Raleigh’s not above acknowledging that he _has_ often thought about it. Sometimes, when he’s training in the yard, he’s envisioned himself getting to face Knifehead. Tearing him limb-from-limb and throwing his head at the pulvinus, right at Chau. But to actually be told that he’s to be facing the man who killed Yancy… it’s surreal. And Champion or not, he’s afraid. Yancy was his big brother, his protector since the very first day they’d been sold into slavery, and for so long, Raleigh had almost thought his brother to be invincible. And if Knifehead could take him away so quickly and effortlessly, how easy would it be for him to kill Raleigh as well?

Poisonous thoughts, stupid and cowardly. But there, all the same.

Chuck paces again, this time left to right, staring at Raleigh. “A lot of people in town love that sort of story, you know – vengeance. They’ll hear you’re fighting your brother’s killer, and they’ll show up in droves to see how you fare. Reckon there’ll be a big turnout.”

“Yeah.”

“Lot of winnings too, probably,” he says.

“I guess,” Raleigh says, distractedly.

Chuck goes silent, turning away from him and crossing his arms. When he speaks again, the words come out stiffly, like they taste bad in his mouth. “Do you still plan to buy your freedom?”

Raleigh shrugs. Then because he knows Chuck isn’t looking at him, he says honestly, “Doubt it’ll be soon, but yeah.”

“And if I were to offer it to you for free? Say I had a change of heart and chose to set you free tomorrow morning, no conditions…. You’d take it?”

Raleigh stares up at Chuck’s back, able to figure out what all of this is without any difficulty – what Chuck’s _really_ asking him. He shifts uncomfortably, bowing his head, and after a pause to consider his answer, he decides not to spare Chuck’s feelings. “Yes,” he says simply.

With an angry huff, Chuck spins to him. “Yes? Even after….” He trails off, flapping his hand to gesture between them.

“Even after what?” Raleigh asks, voice cracking a little as he looks back up at Chuck boldly, his eyebrows going up. “You’re my dominus – I do only what you tell me to.”

“But –”

“I may enjoy it, but I’m still just a slave. And I don’t want to be _just a slave_ for the rest of my life.”

“You’re not just a slave,” Chuck snaps. “You’re my… damnit, Raleigh. You’re….” He growls a little and runs a hand through his hair, pulling on it like he means to yank it all out by the roots.

“Would you rather me lie?” Raleigh asks quietly. He knows Chuck is acknowledging his feelings for Raleigh in the only way he knows how. And Raleigh may return some, if not all, of those feelings, but the fact of the matter is that they’d only come after he’d resigned himself to being Chuck’s slave. Nothing changes the fact that Chuck had used him at first. Continued to use him. Raleigh enjoys himself enough, enjoys Chuck’s company, but he’d never give up his desire to be his own man again. “Would you rather me pretend I’m happy here?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Chuck says sharply, quickly as if it’s an instinct.

Raleigh lowers his gaze. Says slowly and carefully, “I’ve been upfront in my intentions since day one – I’m going to buy my freedom.”

“I’ll refuse it. I won’t let you go.”

The words hang in the air bitterly and Raleigh just stares up at Chuck, who glowers back, jaw tight and eyes narrowed. Raleigh doesn’t believe Chuck’s words – and even if he did, he knows Herc wouldn’t stand for it – but at the same time, he feels like someone’s just dumped a bucket of ice water on him. It stings. 

As if reading Raleigh’s mind, Chuck makes another angry noise in his throat, and he turns to pace away again. He doesn’t stop, instead goes to the doorway and calls for a guard. He doesn’t look at him again, doesn’t give Raleigh a word or even a parting glance as he’s escorted from the room.

And he doesn’t summon Raleigh again.

 

* * *

 

Chuck had been right – the turnout for the Games of Senator Pentecost is huge.

Raleigh spends his day as though in a dream – he goes through the motions blankly, speaking to no one and thinking only of the match to come. From the moment he wakes up, he feels like his bones are vibrating under skin stretched too tight, and he doesn’t eat, knows he wouldn’t be able to keep it down anyway.

Herc gives him a bit of a pep talk before they leave for the arena, though Chuck is nowhere to be seen. “There’s a reason you’re Champion, Raleigh. Because you got something that keeps you going – your brother,” he says. “Knifehead’s nothing – he got lucky with Yancy and him and Chau have been smug about it all the years. Make them pay for it.”

The earlier matches are between gladiators that Raleigh doesn’t know, from other ludi in the city. As the day wears on, Raleigh watches with his brothers, though he doesn’t get into it like they do – even when it gets to Aleksis versus Atticon. In a great showing, Aleksis wins, even despite a net being thrown over him. And then it’s the Wei brothers against Otachi, and they aren’t quite as lucky – Hu falls before his brothers are able to finish Otachi off, and it’s not before Otachi breaks one of Cheung’s legs.

Before he knows it, it’s time for the primus. Raleigh Becket versus Knifehead.

He carries his twin swords out onto the sands as the senator himself introduces the gladiators, and the roar of the crowd becomes background noise – hell, Raleigh had never cared about it in the first place. He stops in front of Knifehead, whose wearing his signature sharp helmet, and he takes a deep, steadying breath through his nose, trying to keep his expression as impassive as he can. He’s almost surprised that Knifehead’s only a little bit larger than him – all these years, he’s built him up as a monster, an undefeatable and inhuman creature just mowing over and destroying other people. But seeing him now, seeing the scars that litter his torso – god, let one of them be from Yancy, let the most painful wound Knifehead’s ever received have come from Yancy – Raleigh feels like he has a chance.

He darts a quick look up at the pulvinus – sees Senator Pentecost first, with Mako on his left, and Herc on his right. Chuck’s sitting at his father’s other side, and Chau is on Mako’s other side. The other lanistae and important guests in attendance are seated behind them. Before he can get distracted, he turns his attention back to Knifehead.

And as if on cue, the fight begins.

Raleigh lunges at him, swords cutting through the air, but Knifehead blocks them both with his weapon of choice – the spear. Raleigh doesn’t slow, lets his pent-up wrath take control, and he attacks Knifehead again and again with everything he’s got. He doesn’t realize it at first, but Knifehead isn’t attacking back, is just evading Raleigh’s powerful hits and letting Raleigh chase after him. Letting him tire himself out.

Raleigh is in mid-swing when it hits him what’s happening, and Knifehead is able to catch him off guard. The tables turn in a flash – and then Knifehead is coming at him relentlessly, and Raleigh’s exhausted so much energy that he barely has the time to dodge or block. All of a sudden, Knifehead uses his spear to sweep Raleigh’s legs out from under him, and Raleigh grunts as he lands hard on his back, sending up clouds of dust. The crowd roars, Knifehead readies his weapon, and Raleigh scrambles backwards and rolls out of the way just as the spear hits the ground where he was.

After he gets back to his feet, they go back and forth – Raleigh advances and Knifehead evades, and then Knifehead advances and Raleigh just barely manages to scrape by without getting severely injured. Whenever Raleigh thinks he’s gaining the upper-hand, Knifehead surprises him with a strong counterattack and he’s back where he started. Any optimism or hope he might have felt at the beginning of the match is quickly starting to fade.

This is _Knifehead_. This is the Big Bad – the only thing in the world who could kill Yancy Becket, the strongest man Raleigh had ever known. If his brother couldn’t stand a chance against him, how in the hell is Raleigh supposed to?

As Raleigh has this thought, Knifehead jerks forward and slams his head into Raleigh’s face. The sharp edge of his helmet just narrowly misses cutting into Raleigh’s flesh, but the blunt part of it smashes against Raleigh’s nose, and Raleigh doesn’t know what he feels more sharply – the cracking sound of his nose most likely breaking reverberating against his skull, or the actual pain of such a hit. Colors explode in his vision, his head whipping back, and he stumbles before falling to his knees. He blinks rapidly, trying to clear his vision of the dancing stars and blurriness, and as his sight comes back to him, he can see Knifehead showing off for the audience as if he’s already won.

And all Raleigh can think about is how this bastard had celebrated after killing Yancy. He’d paraded around Yancy’s lifeless body to the cheering of this stupid crowd – he’d taken the only family Raleigh had had left, and he’d been _happy_ about it.

Raleigh wipes the back of his hand across his face, smearing the blood pouring from his nose across his cheek, and he spits red onto the ground. The throbbing pain he feels in his head and face takes a backseat. With a yell, he flies at Knifehead again, a newfound burst of energy guiding him. Chau’s gladiator is able to block most of Raleigh’s frenzied swings, but Raleigh’s proud to say that he gets a few good hits in, draws a bit of blood. For Yancy.

He doesn’t even bother drawing the fight out like he usually does – he wants Knifehead dead. And he wants him dead _now_. He thrusts one of his swords, but Knifehead ducks away, and the blade’s edge simply slices across the top of Knifehead’s shoulder instead of plunging into his chest like Raleigh had been planning. Blinded by fury, Raleigh brings his other sword up, swinging it in a wide arc, and that’s when Knifehead gets him.

The spear pierces Raleigh’s left side just under his arm. It goes in and comes out clean, a shallow wound, and the pain isn’t there – Raleigh’s so hopped up on adrenaline that he barely feels it. But the blood gushes, dark red splattering the sand at his feet. A collective gasp goes through the audience like a ripple, and Raleigh stumbles back again. He puts a hand to his side and then looks down at the wetness that stains his fingers.

It finally hits him. He hadn’t been afraid of dying this whole time – he’d been afraid of letting Yancy down, of failing. But this could be his last day on earth, these could be his final moments. He could die a slave.

He snaps. Even with the blood flowing from the wound, he again dives at Knifehead. Only this time, he throws his swords to the ground and tackles the other man, hitting him in the midsection and taking him down to the ground. They wrestle around – Knifehead can’t get the spear up to do anything with it, it’s only an effective weapon when you have a good gap between you and your opponent – and Raleigh’s able to wrench it from his hands, throwing it aside. Then, straddling Knifehead’s chest, he makes a mad grab for that stupid pointed helmet, and he’s somehow able to tear it off.

Before Knifehead can even think to react, Raleigh raises the helmet up with both hands, and brings it hurtling down, the sharp edge aimed at his opponent’s neck. The metal is more blunt than that of a sword, but with enough force behind it, Raleigh’s able to slice into the skin of his throat, tearing it open and sending a splashing wave of crimson up. Knifehead’s body jerks beneath him, wildly trying to escape even as he bleeds out, and Raleigh pushes harder on the helmet, putting all of his weight on it.

There’s a wet sound and Knifehead stills.

And just like that… it’s over.

The crowd seems to be waiting for something, maybe a sign of life from Raleigh, so he climbs to his feet, swaying a little. He’s lightheaded, and stupidly he blames it on the fact that he hasn’t eaten all day, barely considering how much blood he’s lost. He raises his left arm to the crowd, and they explode into cheers and applause, but a sharp current of pain rushes through him, making him wince. The pain from his spear injury has finally hit him. And it’s blinding.

He claps a hand over the wound, hunching, and then he turns, looking up towards the pulvinus. He’d meant to see if Senator Pentecost was pleased with the show, had meant to see if Herc was upset with him for ending it so soon, but instead, his gaze goes right to Chuck.

And he promptly collapses.

 

* * *

* *

*

* *

* * *

 

In the pulvinus, Chuck feels very much like he’s suffocating.

Raleigh isn’t fighting like he usually does. He’s angry and reckless, flying at Knifehead as though he’s not even thinking. The hit he takes to the face makes Chuck cringe, but he quickly wipes the expression from his face because out of the corner of his eye, he sees his father turn to look at him. He knows Herc knows about what he does with Raleigh, even despite Chuck’s desires to keep it to himself, but damnit, he doesn’t need Herc worrying for him over this.

He can’t control his expression when Raleigh gets impaled with the spear, however. He clutches the arms of the chair he’s sitting in, clutching so hard his knuckles turn bone white, and he bites his tongue hard enough to taste blood. He wants to squeeze his eyes shut – he doesn’t want to sit there and watch as the man he… as Raleigh dies. But the injury seems to only strengthen Raleigh, and all of a sudden, he’s plowing into Knifehead, taking him to the ground. He can hear Mako’s exclamation of impressed surprise, and as he glances over, he sees Chau sit straight up in his seat.

And as quickly as the match had started, Knifehead is no more. Chuck lets out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding as he watches Raleigh shakily climb to his feet. When Raleigh visibly grimaces, folding in on himself in pain, Chuck’s chest grows tight, his heart feeling like it’s being squeezed in someone’s fist, and then, Raleigh just _has_ to turn and look up towards him. Their gazes meet, but before Chuck can even blink, Raleigh falls over.

Chuck jumps to his feet. The idea of leaping over the railing and climbing down to the sands is tempting, but instead, he just stands there uselessly. Herc stands as well, looking troubled, and his hand lifts like he intends to put it on Chuck’s shoulder, but then it falls to his side. He turns away from Chuck to have a brief, private conversation with Pentecost, and Chuck can only watch as guards move to clear the grounds of the two bodies.

With the way they handle them, Chuck can’t even tell if Raleigh’s alive or dead.

 

* * *

 

Raleigh survives. Chuck learns that the wound was shallow and it didn’t leave any lingering internal damage – just a massive loss of blood. They stem the bleeding at the arena, but it isn’t until they get back to the ludus that the medicus can actually stitch him up. Herc stands at Raleigh’s side, watches over the process, and Chuck hovers just outside the doorway, like he doesn’t want anyone to know he’s there.

On the cot, Raleigh’s white and colorless, the smear of red across his face a vibrant contrast against his pallid skin. He looks dead, even despite the medicus’ words. One of the Wei triplets is lying in the next cot over with a broken leg, pale and sweating, but conscious and watching as the medicus works to get Raleigh’s wound closed.

At one point, Herc even reaches down and presses two fingers against Raleigh’s neck, as though he thinks the medicus is mistaken – a gesture that stirs a stupid jealousy inside of Chuck that he has to force back. Because he feels like it should be _him_ checking Raleigh’s pulse, he’s Raleigh’s dominus after all; but he’s too nervous to even step into the room – he’s pathetic. Then Herc folds his arms across his chest and waits. “Alert me when there’s a change in his condition, yeah?” he says when the wound’s all stitched up, medicine packed on top of it.

He turns to leave and when he catches sight of Chuck, he hesitates. All too suddenly, Chuck feels like a small child again, the lonely little boy he’d turned into the day his mother died, so he directs his gaze to the floor and glares at it. Herc nears him slowly, and this time he does allow himself to place a hand on one of Chuck’s shoulders. The touch is light and gone in a flash, but surprisingly… it helps.

Chuck watches his father disappear, and then he remains a while longer, watching as Raleigh lays there, unmoving.

 

* * *

 

He makes regular trips down to check in on Raleigh, but Raleigh sleeps through most of them. Once, while flushed with a particularly bad fever, Raleigh wakes up just long enough to call Chuck by Yancy’s name, grabbing a fistful of Chuck’s toga and trying to pull himself up before he passes out again. Chuck stays as long as he can, which is until the medicus huffs impatiently at him and acts as though he’s in the way.

Herc stops him early one afternoon while on his way to the ludus for his daily visit. “He’s not down there.”

For a split second, Chuck’s stomach twists and he fears the worst. But Herc’s got a strange look on his face, almost a smile, and Chuck realizes what he means. “He’s awake?” he asks incredulously, sounding more like he’s yelling at his father than anything.

Herc smiles for real and he gestures for Chuck to follow. He leads him through the villa and to the balcony overlooking the training yard, where the sound of wooden swords clacking together can be heard, as usual. His father crosses his arms as they come to a stop, and he looks right at Chuck, who’s eyes have no trouble zeroing in on the familiar frame of Raleigh, _his_ Raleigh, just as he’s being handed two practice swords by one of the ludus slaves.

The sight of him hurts. His face is bruised up, mostly around the eyes, that much is clear even from the balcony – and he moves slowly, gingerly, as though still in intense pain. There’s a bandage around his ribs, effectively covering where the spear had pierced him and the medicus had sewn him up. He looks washed-out and drab, like being out of the sun for so long had drained him of all life and color.

“Should he really be out here yet?” Chuck asks, and even he can hear the frustration in his tone. But really, how could anyone be sure Raleigh’s well enough to be training again? They shouldn’t be putting practice swords in his hands, they should be letting him get more rest.

“He insisted,” Herc says.

“He’s an idiot – he’ll tear his stitches.”

“Wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Stubborn bastard,” Chuck grumps. When his father doesn’t respond, he glances at him to see an expression on his face that can only be considered one of amusement, and Chuck feels his ears heat up a little. “ _What_?”

Herc shakes his head and they both go back to watching the yard. “Medicus says he almost didn’t make it – lost too much blood.”

“I knew he’d pull through. Just like I knew he’d beat Chau’s sorry excuse for a gladiator.”

“Chuck –”

“What? Chau’s an old, washed-up prick. He had a good run, you know, after he stepped on every other lanista in the city to get there, the slimy –”

“Raleigh can buy his freedom now.”

Chuck’s words die in his throat and he freezes up like some kind of idiot, staring down at the gladiators but seeing nothing but a blur. He can feel his father staring at him, waiting for a response, but Chuck can’t come up with one. Finally, he asks, “How?”

“Been here a long while, Chuck. It was a big event, a lot of bets going around…. Gave him just enough,” Herc tells him, slowly as if he’s choosing his words very, very carefully.

It’s selfish, he knows it is, to want to believe that his father is wrong, but he does anyway. Because he doesn’t want to think about Raleigh leaving the ludus. Some of it is because yeah, Raleigh’s been a slave for a good number of years, and Chuck can’t remember the last slave he saw go free, but most of it comes down to the fact that Chuck has grown… fond of him. Has come to care about him. Raleigh can’t leave, not now that Chuck feels like this. But Herc wouldn’t lie about something like this. And Chuck really shouldn’t be so surprised.

“Why are you telling me?” he asks coolly.

“Because he’s your slave.”

“You didn’t tell him?” It’s a dumb question, of course. If Herc had told Raleigh, Chuck highly doubts Raleigh would be in the yard, currently trying to spar despite his injury with the remaining Wei.

“He’s _your_ slave,” Herc says again.

Chuck closes his eyes in aggravation. Of course his father would turn this into some sort of life lesson, a question of morals. “You want me to tell him,” he says, a statement and not a question. “You’re leaving it up to me whether he goes free or not.”

“I am.”

“I could keep him here?” Chuck asks.

There’s a pause. “If that’s what you want…. Is it?”

“Yes,” Chuck admits. Blinks a few times and ducks his head, ashamed. He hadn’t intended to answer so truthfully, especially aloud for his father to hear, but there it was. It was messed up how things had happened, but they’d happened, and Chuck had fallen very hard for his gladiator. And he knew that once Raleigh gained his freedom, he’d probably never see him again. And if there’s something he can do to somehow prevent that, why not?

And Herc sighs the sort of old, tired sigh that makes Chuck hang his head even further, stomach curling in self-loathing. Neither of them say anything else, and eventually, Herc disappears back inside, while Chuck remains, glaring down at Raleigh as though it’s his fault for all of this. And maybe Chuck likes to pretend that it is.

 

* * *

 

He summons Raleigh that night.

He’s standing in the center of the room when Raleigh appears, having been waiting, but they both just stare at one another, not speaking, as if they’ve forgotten how. Raleigh looks curious and expectant, and Chuck feels like he has a million things to say – he just can’t quite bring himself to voice any of them. The last time they’d had a conversation, he’d certainly said things he wasn’t proud of.

He drops his gaze to the bandage around Raleigh’s torso, and finally, he asks, “Can I look at it?”

Raleigh shifts his weight, looking strangely embarrassed, but he nods. Chuck moves closer to him and as he reaches with both hands, Raleigh lifts his left arm to make it easier for him. After unwrapping the bandage and pulling it aside, Chuck cringes at the sight of the stitched up wound – the skin is still very clearly tender, and it doesn’t look good at all, even after all the medicus has done.

“Are you in a lot of pain?” he asks.

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

Chuck observes it a moment longer, and then he covers it back up with the bandage carefully. His hand lingers against Raleigh’s ribs, resting against his side gently, and he stares at the floor. “You could have died,” he remarks quietly.

Raleigh’s eyes bore into him. “Would you have mourned me?”

“ _Of course_ ,” Chuck says sharply, gaze snapping back up to meet Raleigh’s. Softening, he reaches up with his other hand and pushes his fingers through Raleigh’s hair. It’s funny – he’d wanted it cut in the first place, but he actually kind of misses when it was long. “Watching that damn match… it was practically a physical pain to me.”

Raleigh lifts one of his shoulders in a half-shrug. “It’s what I have to do.”

 _Not anymore_ , says a voice in the back of Chuck’s mind, reminding him of what he’d been trying to forget about the entire day. He forces the thoughts away, pretends the conversation with his father didn’t happen, and instead, he says, “Lay down.” And he turns his head by way of gesturing to the bed.

Raleigh does as he’s told, moving to the bed and climbing onto it to lie on his back, mindful of his injury. Chuck – who’d already had his body slave help to rid him of the cumbersome toga – joins him, laying down on Raleigh’s right side. He leans in to kiss Raleigh, just a quick brush of the lips, almost hesitant, and as he does so, he trails a hand along Raleigh’s torso, down to his subligaculum. As he lets the kiss get bolder, he cups Raleigh through the material and squeezes him lightly.

Raleigh breaks the kiss. “I don’t know if I can –”

“So just lay there, then.”

But as he continues rubbing Raleigh through the garment, Chuck realizes that it isn’t working, that neither of them are quite feeling it – him because he’s too busy telling himself what a shitty person he is for not telling Raleigh the truth, and Raleigh simply because of the pain he’s in. So Chuck stops. Brings his hand up to rest on Raleigh’s waist with a small sigh.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. At the almost skeptical look that temporarily flickers over Raleigh’s face, Chuck demands, “What?”

“You just don’t seem like the kind of guy who apologizes often,” Raleigh says softly.

“That ain’t very fair. Reckon there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Well, I only get to see one side of you,” Raleigh says. And as an afterthought, he adds, “Dominus.”

Chuck frowns and looks away, curling up closer to Raleigh. After a little while, Raleigh’s body relaxes, loses the tension that it’d held, and that makes Chuck relax. He closes his eyes – he’d never realized how nice it is to just lay beside someone like this – but now that they’re not speaking, he’s alone with his thoughts again. And that takes away from the enjoyment, for sure.

 _Tell him_ , that voice in his mind speaks up again. _Tell him he’s a free man and just get it all over with_.

He swallows, licking his dry lips anxiously. “Raleigh.”

“Yeah?”

A beat and Chuck flounders. “I’m glad you’re gonna be okay,” he says stupidly.

“Is this your way of telling me you care about me?” Raleigh asks, and when Chuck glances back at him, there’s a small smile tugging at the corner of Raleigh’s lips.

“Maybe.”

One of Raleigh’s hands comes up, fingers touching at Chuck’s temple and pushing back into his hair, and Chuck could just curse he’s so frustrated.  As Raleigh’s hand falls back down, he asks next, “Was Chau pissed?”

Chuck can’t help the bark of laughter that leaves him, despite it all, and he nods, laying back down. “He was thrilled to bits when you took the spear hit, but that disappeared real quick as you finished the match,” he says.

“Good.”

After they fall silent again, Chuck starts to drift off, not quite sleeping, but not entirely awake. Raleigh’s presence is lulling and reassuring, and Chuck thinks that if they could just stay like this for the rest of time, he might be happy about it. No ludus, no gladiatorial games – Chuck had never cared for either, to be totally honest – and none of the shit that made things weird between he and Raleigh. He could just pretend they were normal.

He stirs as Raleigh moves, and he realizes he’d actually been dozing. He sits up quickly and rubs at his eyes. Raleigh looks up at him almost guiltily as he tells him he needs to get back down to the ludus, and Chuck nods, turning away so Raleigh can’t see his cringe. As Raleigh starts to move to carefully get out of the bed, Chuck starts to tell Raleigh he’ll have his body slave escort him downstairs, but ends up trailing off uselessly, and staring ahead of him at the wall, blank and forlorn.

And suddenly, he blurts it out in a rushed and jumbled mess: “You earned enough at Pentecost’s games to buy your freedom.”

The bed stills as Raleigh stops moving, and Chuck bites his lip, internally kicking himself. “You’re serious?” Raleigh asks.

“My father told me earlier today….”

There’s another long silence and Chuck turns back to find Raleigh facing him, staring at him. His eyes are contemplative, brows drawn together in a look of mingled shock and bewilderment, and Chuck has to look away again.

“Were you not going to tell me?” Raleigh asks.

“Yeah, a part of me wanted that to be the plan,” Chuck answers truthfully.

“But…?”

“But… I couldn’t. I couldn’t keep it from you forever.” He shrugs and drops his hands into his lap exasperatedly, pushing out all of his breath in a huff. “I don’t want to give you up, so sue me.”

“Why not?”

“You make me feel.”

“Feel what?”

“Every bloody thing. All the damn time,” Chuck snorts. “After she died, I never wanted to _feel_ again, but leave it to a fucking slave to ruin me.” He shakes his head angrily. He immediately feels stupid for saying it, for even bringing up his mother, especially to Raleigh, but he couldn’t help it – the words had practically torn themselves from him on their own. They tasted sour on their way out and Chuck tries to ignore the heat creeping up his neck.

“You keep doing that.”

“What?”

“You act like I’m more to you than that, but when it all comes down to it, I’m still just a ‘fucking slave,’” Raleigh says, more harshly than he’s ever talked to Chuck before.

And Chuck’s pride flares up – how dare Raleigh speak to _him_ , his _dominus_ , like that? – but when he spins around to be met with Raleigh’s hard stare, the fire in his eyes, Chuck wilts a little. “I’m sorry,” he says again. And it’s funny because he can’t at all remember the last time he’d apologized for something, and here he’s done it twice in the same night.

Raleigh turns away from him, a muscle in his jaw jumping, and Chuck stares at the tense line of his shoulders. “You make me feel too,” he says after a long moment. “It’s why it was so easy for me to go along with it, why I never complained.”

“And you still want to leave?” Chuck asks, voice cracking humiliatingly, and even to his own ears, he sounds like an immature little boy with no knowledge of how the real world operates.

“Yes.”

Chuck turns away once more, looking down at his hands, and he heaves a deep sigh. He’s reminded of the way his father had sighed after Chuck had told him that he wanted to keep Raleigh at the ludus, of the obvious disappointment his father had felt. And though he can’t stand the idea of Raleigh leaving, he thinks he’s done being a disappointment to everyone – himself included. “I’ll speak with my father…. Go about securing your freedom,” he murmurs.

The bed shifts as Raleigh gets up, and Chuck’s surprised when he comes around to stand in front of him. Chuck has to look up at him, since he’s still sitting of course, and Raleigh’s face is neutral, his expression closed off and harder to read than it’s ever been. But one of his hands comes up and slides through Chuck’s hair again, starting at the center of his hairline and going back to the nape of Chuck’s neck, where his hand rests. And Chuck, surprising even himself, gives Raleigh a small smile – it’s tight-lipped and probably looks more like he’s tasted something tart but Raleigh seems to get the picture, his eyes softening.

“You act like you’ll never see me again if I go free,” he says.

“Because I won’t,” Chuck says. _Because I don’t deserve to_ , he mentally adds. And then he leans in and rests his forehead against Raleigh’s stomach, and they don’t speak anymore.

 

* * *

 

It’s an obnoxiously sunny day when Raleigh leaves the ludus for good. Chuck stays out of sight, hiding like when he was a child and his father had guests over. He feels foolish about it, but he’d rather be a fool than face Raleigh, as pitiable as it is.

“You’re not coming?” Herc had asked him on his way downstairs to see Raleigh off.

“I’ll watch from the balcony,” had been Chuck’s dismissive response.

And true to it, he does watch. He bends and rests his arms on the railing, eyes locked on Raleigh as he’s led to the ludus gate by Herc and the Doctore. He’s dressed in a rough tunic, a sight that Chuck just can’t help but find odd, since he’s never actually seen him wearing real clothes – it makes it all feel surreal, like he’s dreaming. But the tightness in his chest, the way his stomach is coiled into a hard knot, lets him know he’s very much awake.

The rest of the gladiators are in the midst of training, but they stop to watch as well. Herc had mentioned something fleetingly to Chuck about the sight of Raleigh leaving being a boost to moral, encouragement to the others, and Chuck had asked him why he was so bloody eager for his slaves to gain their freedom. Why he’d decided to be a lanista if he truly didn’t like owning his gladiators.

Herc had fixed him with a look – serious and scrutinizing, very fatherly – and had said, “I did what was expected of me. I let other people decide my future.”

Chuck had rolled his eyes, not in the mood for his old man’s life wisdom.

Jealousy rears its head as Chuck watches Herc and Raleigh say their farewells – they shake hands, and Raleigh beams at Herc, his smile bright enough to rival the sun. All Chuck can think of is the fact that that’s _his_ Raleigh, and he’s too cowardly to even say goodbye to him. And he wants to hate his father for all of this happening, wants to blame him like he blames him for his mother, but he knows that he can’t.

On his way through the gate, Raleigh stops and turns very slightly. Chuck thinks – _hopes_ – that he’s going to look back at him, spare him a meaningful parting look before he leaves. Chuck holds his breath, stares so hard that his eyes start to hurt from not blinking them….

But Raleigh doesn’t look back.

 

* * *

EPILOGUE

* * *

 

When Raleigh sees the small cart drawing up the path towards his farm, he can’t believe who’s driving it. Bent over and working on the fence he’s building around where he plans to keep goats, he’s sure he’s seeing things, so he straightens and shields his eyes. It’s a windy and overcast day, but still the middle of the afternoon, and the gray sky is bright enough that he thinks his vision must be playing tricks on him.

Chuck Hansen stops the cart and climbs out, hopping down with that ever present air about him like he’s immediately ready for a brawl. He strides towards Raleigh, carrying that tempest eternally brewing under the surface, and Raleigh sweeps his gaze over him. He looks exactly the same – not that _too_ much time had passed since Raleigh had come out here – and Raleigh puffs up instinctively, forgetting at first that he’s a free man. That he doesn’t have to present himself to his dominus.

“Herc tell you where I was?” he asks.

“He _is_ the only one who knows how to find you.” Chuck stops before him, a good few feet away like he’s afraid of getting too close, and he gestures. “Where’s all your animals?”

“I don’t have any yet.”

“All this time out here and you don’t have one bloody pig or something? What kinda farmer are you?”

“Well, I’m not going to be a pig farmer first of all, it’s going to be goats. And it seemed more important to get a roof over my head before I worried about animals,” Raleigh says.

Chuck’s gaze goes to the small house Raleigh had constructed himself – well, with help from his former lanista, who’d loaned him the money for the supplies – and Chuck studies it like he’s looking for a fault to pick out. What he says aloud, however, is, “You built that all on your own?”

“Fighting’s not the only thing I’m good for,” Raleigh says. “So did you come all this way to criticize me, or what?”

“If I had, I’d have started with all that hair.”

A quick smile comes to Raleigh’s face and he ducks his head. In the time since he’d lived there on that small patch of land outside of town – again, purchased with Herc’s help – his hair had grown considerably, and though he tries to keep it pulled back with a strip of fabric, it usually ends up falling around and framing his face because it’s not quite long enough for that yet. He’s also got a bit of a beard working now too, and absently, he reaches up and strokes a hand over his jaw, not failing to notice the way the motion draws Chuck’s attention.

“I use it to blend in,” he says. “Figure the people know their past Champion as someone with short hair.”

“I’m pretty sure they all think you’re dead anyway, so you’d probably go unnoticed even if you walked into town wearing your armor and with your swords blazing,” Chuck says with a shrug. At Raleigh’s questioning look, Chuck sighs like he can’t believe he has to explain, and he goes on, “Since you didn’t fight again after Pentecost’s games, since you disappeared, a lot of people reckon you died from what Knifehead did to you. That the rumor of your freedom was just wishful thinking or something, I don’t know.”

Raleigh makes a thoughtful face, pursing his lips slightly, and he nods. “Works for me.”

Chuck shuffles his feet, shifting his weight uncomfortably, and Raleigh crosses his arms over his chest, watching the man who’d once owned him. It’s not surprising that things feel so awkward between them – and not just because their relationship had been that of a master and a slave, but because of how it’d ended. Chuck hadn’t said goodbye to him. After the night where he’d let Raleigh know he could leave, he’d avoided Raleigh entirely. And it’s taken him this long to seek him out? Raleigh almost wants to tell him to piss off.

“A lot of people thought Aleksis might become Champion after you,” Chuck says finally, conversationally, and he looks up at Raleigh again. His eyes are wide, emotive, and Raleigh doesn’t feel quite as bitter as he wants to, because at least Chuck’s trying. Maybe too little, too late, but it’s still there.

“He didn’t?” Raleigh prompts.

Chuck shakes his head. “That Kaidonovsky woman took him off my father’s hands. She’s not even a lanista.”

Raleigh has to assume that ‘that Kaidonovsky woman’ is the blonde he’d seen on the night of Senator Pentecost’s party, the one who had such a keen interest in Aleksis. “What’d she want him for then?”

Chuck shrugs. “Beats the hell out of me. But she checked out, and Pentecost himself vouched for her, so….”

“What about Jin?”

“Who? Oh, the Weis,” Chuck says, and in the brightness of the day, Raleigh can see his ears redden, like he’s embarrassed for not knowing who Raleigh had been talking about. “The one who broke his leg, he’s helping Doctore out – wants to fight again, of course, but no one knows if he’ll be able to; Otachi did a number on him. And the other one… he’s just angry all the time.”

Raleigh nods, looking down. He hadn’t been able to mourn Hu with Jin and Cheung, as he’d still been out and recovering from his injury. He knows all too well how deep a wound it is to lose a brother, and he wishes he could have been there for them.

Suddenly, Chuck reaches over and Raleigh tenses, but the younger man only grabs the short wooden sword hanging from Raleigh’s belt – his rudis. Herc had presented it to Raleigh before he’d left, the customary token of a gladiator’s freedom, and in the blade had been carved stories of Raleigh’s accomplishments – Yamarashi, Clawhook, Knifehead; among others. There’s even a bit in there about Yancy, to honor his memory, Herc had said. 

“You carry this around?” Chuck asks, studying the rudis like it holds the meaning of life.

“You know the deal – it has to be on my person at all times so people know I’m not a slave,” Raleigh says. “Don’t want to be forced back into it, believe it or not.”

“But even out here?” Chuck turns and looks around at the open fields around them. “Who the hell’s out here to see it?”

“You never know who’ll come by – you, being the case in point,” Raleigh says with a little smirk. He shrugs. “Maybe I just like being reminded that I’m a free man.”

Chuck stares at Raleigh for a moment, then nods and looks away, holding the rudis out towards Raleigh, hilt-first. Instead of taking it how it’s offered, Raleigh grabs it by the blade part, letting his fingers brush Chuck’s as he does so. Chuck visibly swallows, his fingers twitching like he means to grab Raleigh’s hand, but he doesn’t.

“What are you doing here anyway?” Raleigh asks, tucking it back into his belt.

“I told my father that I don’t want anything to do with the ludus,” Chuck says all on a breath. Raleigh raises his eyebrows and Chuck shifts his weight again, coming a little closer as though it’s an unconscious move, like he just can’t help himself. “I don’t care about the games, I don’t care about training people and watching them die in front of me – I don’t want to be a lanista like him.”

“Was he upset?” Raleigh’s already sure he knows the answer, but he asks anyway.

“Yeah… upset I hadn’t said anything sooner,” Chuck says, and he gives a snort of laughter. “Think he was waiting all this time for me to make my own choice about what I want out of life.”

“So what do you want to do? If not train and house gladiators?” Raleigh asks.

Chuck hesitates, glances back towards the house and licks his lips, looking like he’s mulling over his answer carefully. “I don’t know. Reckon farming ain’t such a bad idea.”

Raleigh smiles. “I don’t have any slaves.”

Chuck makes an indignant noise in his throat. “I can live without slaves.”

“And you have to like dogs.”

“What? Why?”

“There’s this dog that’s been hanging around here ever since I started building the house. Was going to call him Yancy but I’m pretty sure my brother would have hated that, and I need someone to put in a good word for me wherever we go when we die, so I’ve been calling him Max instead.”

“I’ve never had a dog before,” Chuck says. Glances at Raleigh and then looks down at his feet, flushing a little. “I mean, it wouldn’t be instant. Maybe I can just start coming ‘round every day…. Maybe it can be gradual.”

“I’d like that. Chuck.”

Chuck looks up, surprised, and Raleigh smiles at him again. Then he sighs a little and places his right hand on the nearest fencepost, turning to survey the land. _His_ land – god he wishes Yancy was there to see it. When he glances back at Chuck, he finds Chuck gazing at his arm, and before Raleigh can say anything, Chuck’s grabbing him by the wrist and pulling his arm out to look at it. The branded H is still there, of course, always will be unless Raleigh takes drastic measures to rid himself of it, and Chuck brushes one of his thumbs over the scar, following the lines. The soft feeling of the pad of his thumb makes goosebumps rise on Raleigh’s skin, and he watches Chuck’s face as Chuck stares down at it.

And then, Chuck’s leaning in and pulling Raleigh’s arm up a little more, and he ghosts his lips over the mark. It’s such a simple, chaste gesture, but it makes Raleigh’s chest feel like it’s being constricted. It’s something he never could have imagined the old Chuck doing.

As he lets go of Raleigh’s arm and straightens, Chuck’s entire body seems to have relaxed, as though Raleigh is some sort of drug he’d been fiending for. Like he was in pain and Raleigh was the only medicine that could help him. And Raleigh realizes what this meeting has felt like ever since Chuck had started speaking to him – it feels like Chuck’s the one presenting himself to Raleigh rather than the other way around. As though Chuck is the slave looking for his master’s approval.

“I’m not set up for entertaining guests yet,” Raleigh says playfully, glancing back at his house. “No wine. No Latrunculi. Don’t even have a spare chair for you to sit on…. But it might be nice to have a second pair of hands working on this fence with me?”

Chuck flashes a grin, dimples and all, which seems so unusual since it generally has always seemed like smiling physically hurts Chuck. He takes a step back, hands going to his hips, and he examines what Raleigh’s already accomplished with the fence. “Probably a good idea,” he says. “The house is great, but this fence? Real shoddy work, Ray. Your goats can’t be kept in this.”

“You grew up in your father’s villa – what do you know about fences?” Raleigh asks.

Chuck rolls his eyes. “Get to work, Becket.”

“You’re not the boss of me anymore, Hansen.”

And though Chuck gives him  an exasperated look, they share a laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> And as anything I write these days, this is dedicated to Tara, my wonderful co-pilot, who was kind enough to be my guinea pig when I finished the first draft. <3


End file.
